


The Trial of Albus Dumbledore

by Aurora_xx



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood Pacts, F/M, M/M, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Politics, Post-Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Trials
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2019-11-03 18:36:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 51,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17883131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora_xx/pseuds/Aurora_xx
Summary: Albus Dumbledore has to attend a disciplinary hearing for withholding invaluable information about Gellert Grindelwald, deliberate misdirection and performing a blood pact with the person who currently represents the biggest threat to the wizard community.Unknowingly, he takes Veritaserum before.





	1. The Trial

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [阿不思·邓布利多的审判](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20904806) by [Dorothy_DI](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorothy_DI/pseuds/Dorothy_DI)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters and settings do not belong to me but the wonderful J.K. Rowling - Thank you, for making this ship canon.
> 
> So, this is my first contribution to the Grindeldore fandom. Turned out a bit longer than expected, sorry about that.
> 
> Just a few things before you start reading:
> 
> 1.) I have absolutely no idea if sexism, racism, etc. exists in the Wizarding World, so for this story, I took the liberty to just do what seemed best fitting and it is an important part of the story. It is canon-divergence, after all. 
> 
> 2.) We don't know what Dumbledore thinks about Grindelwald's and his relationship - If he knew that Grindelwald loved him or something like that. In this fic, however, he assumes that Grindelwald manipulated him.
> 
> 3.) Dumbledore is a professor for transfiguration in this one. To be honest, I don't really care if he is a professor for DADA or transfiguration in the movies, but it is what I grew up with in the books and it is a very small detail to change.
> 
> Have fun reading!
> 
> P.S: I wrote this instead of sleeping. Honestly, I have serious jet lag right now.

_Dear Mr. Dumbledore_

_We have received intelligence that you and the wanted criminal and terrorist GELLERT GRINDELWALD, searched in 29 countries for fraud, impersonation, torture, murder, et cetera,  
have performed a highly illegal ceremony in the year of 1899. _

_The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Improper Use of Magic as well as misdirection and withhold of important information has resulted in your temporary suspension as teacher from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry until a sentence has been agreed upon._

_As you have already received an official warning at a previous time for an offence under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlock’s Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 8 a.m. on the first of June._

_Hoping you are well_ ,  
_Yours sincerely_ ,  
_Michael Jones,_  
_Improper Use of Magic Office_  
_Ministry of Magic_

 

 

Albus Dumbledore is presenting a picture of imperturbability as he sits on an uncomfortable, metallic stool in a too small room. He wears his finest, purple suit and his freshly trimmed auburn beard seems to shine bright like fire in the light of the candles that are floating above him. His clear blue eyes look occasionally from the stone wall in front of him to the two Aurors that have accompanied him.

They are two far too serious creatures, for Dumbledore’s taste, and they obviously don’t appreciate his colourful sense of fashion, if the appalled look they had given his suit was anything to go by. 

Travers is making him wait. Something, _he_ doesn't appreciate. 

A power play, obviously. His hearing has been set for 8 a.m. and here he is, at 8:27 a.m., still waiting and the Head of Magical Law Enforcement hadn’t even had the dignity to show up. 

He refuses to feel provoked, though, so he sits calmly on his terribly hard stool, legs elegantly crossed and hands neatly folded on his knees. No tapping his fingers or twitching eyebrows. 

If at least he had his book with him— but it had been confiscated from him, along with his wand and his deluminator the moment he had entered the Ministry. Without thinking, he compulsively reaches a hand to grasp the place on his chest where the pendent would usually hang from a long, filigree chain around his neck. When his fingers curl around air, he quickly turns the gesture into an absent scratch in the hopes of preventing too much suspicion from the watchful Aurors. It had been a difficult to leave the pendant behind after the reunion only a month ago, after nearly two decades since Gellert had fled Godric’s Hollow with it. Wisely, he had hidden the condemning Troth in the Room of Requirement. The room -transformed by his need- had become a vast labyrinth of towering contraband collections hidden by generations of Hogwarts students.

“Professor!”

Surprised, Albus looks up and sees Theseus Scamander walking towards him, a small but tense smile gracing his lips. Out of politeness he stands up and offers him his hand in greeting. Theseus takes it, grip firm and slightly too strong, and the professor briefly wonders why the Auror is so nervous. 

Being Head-Auror obviously has its perks for when Theseus nods his head, the two wizards guarding Dumbledore immediately stride towards the exit and leave the room, the door closing behind them with a quiet click.

Theseus scratches his neck a bit sheepishly and Dumbledore is reminded strikingly of the student he taught at Hogwarts.

“Your hearing has been delayed. That is why you, ah, have to wait. I take it you have not been informed?” 

Dumbledore only chuckles. “I imagine Travers enjoys having me at his disposal.” He smooths his hand over his suit and offers Newt’s older brother a kind look. “I do not mind waiting a bit but he could have at least offered me a pillow. My trousers are all rumpled.”

Theseus only sighs: “You don’t have a lot of friends in the Ministry right now.” 

Ah, the first hint. Dumbledore is sure that Theseus is secretly bursting with questions. 

“Well, my circle of friends consists of centuries-old alchemists, brilliant and occasionally a bit eccentric professors and beast-loving researchers. I dare say that they are far more interesting”, he answers cheerfully, distracting them both from the imminent topic of his supposed ‘crimes’. 

Theseus only shakes his head slightly, an amused edge tugging at the corner of his lips. They stand in silence for a while, Dumbledore not wanting to start a conversation that can only go wrong and Theseus obviously keeping his tongue from spilling a million words. 

It’s only now that Albus is suddenly struck by how tired Theseus looks. His shoulders seemingly sagging as if under a huge strain; dark -almost bruising- shadows under bloodshot eyes. Albus wonders briefly if Theseus has slept at all since returning from Paris and feels his heart break as he recounts the many horrors Theseus Scamander -the War Hero- has suffered at such a young age. First the Great War and now… now there was Leta.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Theseus asks finally, offering an olive branch. 

Dumbledore sighs and looks at his pocket-watch. The time-telling object has no numbers, but planets twirling around the smooth surface, as well as twelve hands.  
It has meanwhile become 8:43 a.m. Travers is determined to strain his nerves. Well, if the Head of Magical Law Enforcement wants him to squirm, he can do that very well with a lovely cup of hot beverage. “Yes, thank you.”

Theseus nods and moves towards the door. Before he opens it, he hesitates and turns to scrutinize his old professor. “They took your wand, right?”

Albus is sure that his eyes must be twinkling as he nods.  
“And I can assure you that I will not leave this room. I am not particularly fond of relentless pursuits.”

Theseus’ cheeks flush a faint shade of pink and he leaves the room. 

As soon as the other man is gone, Albus narrows his eyes and puts his hands in his pockets. Theseus is clearly acting guilty, much like that one time when he was in his final year in Hogwarts and a Gryffindor had insulted his younger brother, only grow flowers out of his ears moments later. Nobody had seen Theseus do anything, of course, but it couldn’t have been more obvious. 

The Professor lifts his hand to rub his chin in thought, beard lightly scratching against his fingers. 

The most likely reason for his guilty behaviour -Albus contemplates- is that it had been Theseus who had told the Ministry about the Blood Pact. Despite Newt’s promise not to tell anyone about it, Theseus could not have failed to have noticed the pendant at the cemetery of Père Lachaise when the Niffler had brought the little treasure to his master (if Dumbledore recalls Newt’s very detailed report correctly). The Magizoologist had assured that he wouldn’t tell anyone, which is far too kind and more than Albus deserves . He is already keeping so many secrets. However, unlike Newt, Theseus would feel obligated to tell the Ministry about what was a very major insight into the threat of Grindelwald. 

It only takes a few minutes until Theseus is back, balancing two steaming cups of tea along with a pot of cream and sugar on a small tray, which he places on a nearby stool with a small clink of china. “Honestly, I almost thought you’d be gone”, the Auror admits with a grimace, handing one of the cups to the professor.

Albus only chuckles and helps himself with a large amount of sugar cubes before he looks up and sees Theseus staring unbelievingly at his cup. 

“Oh Theseus, you should know by now that I have a bit of a sweet tooth”, he smiles while he takes a long sip.

Theseus shuffles a bit from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable, and Dumbledore decides that it is time to address the elephant in the room. He sits down in his previous spot, willing to make himself smaller and at the same time give Theseus a sense of old familiarity, despite the lack of desk, balancing his saucer in his lap.  
“What is troubling you, Theseus?” he asks gently.  
Theseus stops fidgeting and puts his hands behind his back, standing straight. “Pardon?”  
Albus takes another sip. “You’ve been shuffling your feet since you’ve joined me in here and I haven’t seen you doing that since you hexed poor Timmothy in your final year. Since we obviously have time right now, why don’t you tell me what is bothering you?”  
He looks over the rim of his cup and gives the Auror a look he had been able to practice a million times on hundreds of students. Theseus doesn’t blush, but Albus can sense his discomfort.

“I told the Ministry about the Blood Pact,” he finally blurts out. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Dumbledore sighs, ”I assumed it, yes.” They are both quiet for a while and Theseus seems to remember only now that he has a cup of tea as well. He quickly raises it to his lips and casts his eyes to the ground. Dumbledore takes a sip as well and thinks carefully about his next words. While very loyal to the Ministry, Theseus doesn’t blindly follow the orders of his superiors like many other officials. Something Albus admires, even if he doesn’t agree with the government.  
“I don’t blame you Theseus,” he continues calmly. “I’d rather have you hadn’t, given the current circumstances, but I certainly don’t blame you.” Albus pauses briefly. “However, I respect your loyalty towards the Ministry. The amount of people still having faith has become entirely too little, lately.”

“But you don’t have any, do you? In the Ministry?”, Theseus said, his voice sounding a bit snappish. 

Theseus’ eyes don’t leave his for a second and Albus feels oddly compelled to justify himself before his old student. He finishes his tea to have some time to think about his answer and then puts the empty cup beside him. “I cannot agree with some things that are currently going on. I warned the Ministry not to intervene at Grindelwald’s rally and yet Travers gave the order and innocent people died.” He folds his hands on his knees, before adding, “And as a result, Grindelwald’s message has been proven right and seems now more enticing than ever to the public.”

Theseus looks into the depths of the clear, dark red liquid in his cup.  
“I don’t know what to do right now,” he starts hesitantly. He pauses for a moment before standing abruptly, stuffing one hand deeply into his pockets. “I mean, Grindelwald infiltrated the American government without being noticed. Had been kept in a highly secured prison of which we were assured no-one could escape from-” he begins to pace, as if unable to contain his growing anxiety. “Then we learn that not only has he persuaded two people to join him, but convinced a third -a hard-working Ministry-official for years- to trade places and get his tongue cut out. I mean,” his voice rises slightly as if unable to contain his agitation. “I walk through the corridors sometimes and think: Who’s next? Or is he already here?” He forces himself to stop pacing with great effort and shakes his head before turning to look firmly at Albus. “I don’t know who to trust right now.”  
Albus holds his gaze. “I see. Grindelwald has a talent for manipulation. I have known him before and I have seen him using this skill. But know, Theseus, that if you ever need a place to go to -to feel safe- Hogwarts is always open to you.”

Theseus drives his left hand through his neatly slicked-back hair to have some time to find the right words and Albus waits patiently. 

Finally he sits again and murmurs, “I don’t want to get you fired from Hogwarts, you know? You are a good teacher.”

“Thank you, Theseus,” Dumbledore smiles genuinely.  
They both sit in comfortable silence, Theseus occasionally sipping on his, now cold, tea, deep in thought and Albus goes back to staring at the wall.  


Around 9:45 a.m, two Aurors -not the same ones as before- finally enter the room and inform him that they will take him to the hearing area now. Theseus stays behind and explains that he will join the hearing as one of the spectators.  
Dumbledore notices a slightly strange, flying feeling in his stomach and he briefly wonders if he is nervous, but dismisses it. He has committed no crime, except performing a blood ceremony with a friend -who hadn’t been a wanted criminal back then- and not reporting to the Ministry about it. It was only recently that, the ritual had been forbidden entirely by the British Ministry of Magic and declared _highly illegal_. 

Albus snorts softly.

Travers was boringly uncreative.

There was absolutely no reason to forbid this kind of ritual. They have become quite unpopular anyways during the last century due to the impossibility to break them.

When Albus had read about the sudden law-change, back in his office at Hogwarts, he had rolled his eyes so expressively that even a painting at the wall had curiously looked up from whatever it had been doing and persistently tried to find out what the article had been about.

His thoughts briefly wander to Gellert and he tries to imagine what he would do in this situation, but immediately forbids his mind from going further into that direction. 

 

The two Aurors lead him down a long, windowless corridor. Black stone clads the walls around them and they remind him very much of a dungeon. He has never been here before, even though he has worked alongside the Ministry officials inside the Wizengamot. In front of a big door, crafted of dark, heavy wood, they stop and the first Auror gestures. Albus opens the door and steps inside. 

The first thing he observes is that the courtroom is brighter than the corridor. The hall is huge, windowless and has a very high ceiling from which several chandeliers are hanging. The dark mahogany walls are dotted with what must be hundreds of torches. There are rows of sitting benches in a formation like stairs, that extend almost to the very top of the room. Sitting high behind something that looks like a conductor’s desk are the silhouettes of three figures. His interrogators.

A single chair, looking just as uncomfortable as the seat he had just left, is in the middle of the room. Albus sighs inaudibly and makes his way to the centre. He settles down on the smooth surface and shackles automatically wrap around his wrists to bind them to the armrest. He lifts an eyebrow and addresses the desk in front of him. “A bit much, isn’t it?”

Torquil Travers, occupying the main interrogator seat in the middle, doesn’t change his expression but his eyes betray his secret glee. “We know that you are skilful with wandless magic and we can’t be too careful.”

“Of course”, Albus says pleasantly, leaning back into the chair and giving the impression that this position is indeed very comfortable. He can see the glee slightly dimming and bites down a smirk. Travers had gone from slightly irritating to serious annoyance over the last few days and Albus’ tolerance is not infinite. 

He decides to ignore the sour-looking man for now and looks at the people filling the room. There are far too many in the crowd to consist only of officials from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. 

On Travers’ right side is the Minister for Magic himself. A small, tattered figure, especially empathized again by sitting next to the stern-looking Travers and the switched position. He feels a small wave of sympathy for Minister Fawley. Everyone in this room can see who is truly holding the power here. It won’t be too long, probably, until he will have to resign. On the other hand, Fawley had been a rather incompetent Minister when it came to stopping Grindelwald, too inactive, and the people are thirsting for a politician who can promise them safety. Someone who takes the initiative. 

And even he has to admit that Travers, tall and dynamic, would look like the more attractive alternative to the wizard community, though he hopes it won’t happen. 

Next to Fawley (and Albus has to blink twice, he is so surprised), sits Seraphina Picquery, the president of MACUSA, back straight and a picture of absolute grace. 

_Why are the Americans here?_

When he looks around, he can see more, clearly not-British-people. He recognizes clothes from America, hears accents from Germany and the French language, quietly spoken. Some Aurors and Ministry officials from all around the world have gathered here today. This isn’t a simple disciplinary hearing. An International Wizengamot has gathered today, specifically for _his_ trial. 

Confused, he tries to analyse this new information and suddenly, he recognizes a few familiar faces in the crowd. Newt Scamander is sitting between his brother and the stern-looking American Auror, Tina Goldstein. The magizoologist is gazing at him and even from his chair, Albus can see him fidgeting nervously. He gives his old student a reassuring smile and after a brief pause, Newt reciprocates it.

Auror Goldstein seems as stiff as she had been in Hogwarts, after the survivors had arrived at the school from Gellert Grindelwald’s rally in Paris. Well, he guesses that it is understandable after her sister, Queenie, if he remembers the name correctly, had fallen for the dark wizard’s charisma and followed him into the circle of fire. (Dumbledore had barely suppressed a snort when Newt had described the fire. Gellert always had a flair for the dramatic.)

He lets his eyes trail to the seats above Newt and his friends and discovers Yusuf Kama, expressionless as ever, sitting behind Newt. A rather quiet man and not easy to read. At Hogwarts, the wizard had prefered to stay silent and simply observe while the others discussed their next steps but he had been polite and well-mannered when asked a question. That and the name “Kama” indicated his noble heritage. Albus’ eyes fall to the person next to the French-Senegalese wizard and does a double take when he sees who it is: Jacob Kowalski.

_A Muggle?_

_What in the name of Merlin’s beard is a Muggle doing in the Ministry of Magic?_

Not that he doesn’t like Mr. Kowalski. In fact, they had bonded over something Mr. Kowalski had called “stress-baking”. Apparently, the Muggle enjoys baking when he is upset to calm his mind, much like he himself enjoys knitting in such situations. So, Albus had shown him Hogwarts’ kitchen and Mr. Kowalski had been delighted to join the House-elves in making some Caramel-Eclairs. He hadn’t even seemed surprised by the elves’ appearances.  
Travelling with Newt had that effect on you, he supposes. 

_He is probably a witness_ , Albus muses and can’t help but chuckling quietly.  
Ironic, how the Ministry seems to ignore their own strict laws when it favours their personal gain. 

The strange feeling suddenly gets stronger and ttakes a few deep breaths to calm his stomach. After it has quieted down, he continues observing the rows. 

Nicholas isn’t here, though the he isn’t very surprised by that. Of course the most respected alchemist on the Continent who’d readily defend him wouldn’t be invited. Theseus had most likely pulled some strings to get Newt in, despite their friendship. 

Nagini isn’t there either, but again, much like Nicholas, not shocking. The Ministry would probably have never allowed a Maledicta, _an underbeing_ , as pure-bloods prefer to call them, into their halls.

Suddenly, Travers loud voice booms though the hall and Albus has to suppress a grimace.

“Disciplinary hearing of the first of June, into offences committed under the Decree for the Improper Use of Magic, and the International Statute of Secrecy by performing a most illegal blood vow, withholding of important information and deliberate misdirection by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Dumbledore needs a second to comprehend that Travers was saying that the _crime of withholding information and misdirection_ \- and not the blood pact - had been committed at Hogwarts. No-one had an idea where Gellert and he had mingled their blood which meant they hadn’t gone to Godric’s Hollow to dig in his past. 

“Interrogators: Hector Fawley, Minister for Magic; Torquil Travers, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Seraphina Piquery, President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America. 

The wizards and witches around the hall have stopped their whispered conversations and are looking tensely at the three interrogators. 

“Let’s begin,” Travers says, looking positively hungry now.

“Are you Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?” Fawley asks, his voice almost squeaky and Albus is a bit surprised that Travers let the Minister start.

“Yes!”, he answers automatically. 

“Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”

“Until I was suspended nine days ago, yes.”

The feeling in his stomach gets stronger and Albus does his best to appear relaxed. He has nothing to fear. He hasn’t committed a crime in almost thirty years and before that – well, any evidence that he had _intended_ to do it was buried in Godric’s Hollow and Aberforth isn’t present. Thank Morgana for that. 

Travers clears his throat pompously and sorts a pile of parchments in front of him for the effect of a dramatic pause. It seems to work as some wizards hold their breath to not miss anything. Finally, he has found what he was looking for:

“The charges against the accused are as follows: “That he did knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of its illegality, having received a previous warning and supervising Admonitors from the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, withhold invaluable information regarding the terrorist Gellert Grindelwald, whose openly known goal it is to bring down the International Statute of Secrecy, as well as their immediate relationship.”

_Illegality? Since when?_ Albus asks himself and almost snorts.

“Proof for their relationship is a blood oath, created in the year of 1899.”

Unbelieving whispers start in all corners of the auditorium at this news. He looks around and sees indignation on the faces of the German-speaking and American fraction while the British seem more relaxed. Obviously, they had already known of his early relationship with the wanted dark wizard. The Russian fraction sits behind him and he doesn’t have time to look at the French delegation. 

“Due to legislation Number sixteen by the office for Improper use of Magic in 1799, blood vows have to be registered or are otherwise considered against the law, this exhibit functioning as an example. The last legal one was reported to the Ministry in 1822.”

Very subtle, _Torquil._

Travers lays the parchment down and looks at Albus with piercing eyes, but it is Fawley again, who speaks next. 

“And is it true that you have withheld information that you made said pact?” 

Albus is sure that his jaw muscle twitches but he manages to give his confirmation in a composed tone. 

“And is it true that you have withheld the fact that you made said pact from anyone?”

His mouth works faster than his mind: “I told Newt Scamander after he returned from Paris.”

He immediately whips his head to see Newt’s face. Wide eyes behind shaggy hair are betraying the Magizoologist’s surprise and he isn’t the only one. Albus hadn’t meant to mention Newt. 

But the chuckling voice of Fawley directs his gaze back towards the interrogation box: “We were already aware of that.”

Theseus must have said something. A glance at his old student’s nervous face tells Albus everything he needs to know. He decides to address it later when the two have time to talk. 

“Is it true that you sent Newton Scamander to New York to encounter Gellert Grindelwald?”, Fawley continues. 

His stomach twists uncomfortably and he presses his lips together before the words can tumble out of his mouth. Strictly speaking, he had sent Newt to Egypt to get Frank, the Thunderbird knowing the Magizoologist would want to bring him back to Arizona.

“No”, he answers simply and Travers narrows his eyes. 

“Did you know that Grindelwald was in New York at the time?”

Dumbledore furrows his brows. He hadn’t known for certain, and that is exactly what he tells the Wizengamot: “I wasn’t confident, no.” 

A flash of disappointment appears in Travers’ eyes.  
He takes over, quite rudely, the next question. “Have you had any contact with Grindelwald since 1899?” 

He feels relief at that question: “No.”, he exhales, voice strong. 

Travers grits his teeth: “I mean any form of contact. Letters, signs, floo-powder…”

“No,” Albus answers and the right corner of his mouth twitches at the irritated expression of the man above him.

How amusing. 

“This will be an easy question, Dumbledore- are you one of his followers?” It was obvious that he had been anxious to ask this since the very beginning. So, Albus very much enjoys lifting his chin and giving Travers the answer he really doesn’t want to hear.

So, he very much enjoys lifting his chin and give him the answer Travers really doesn’t want to hear: “No.” 

To his credit, the Auror doesn’t falter. 

“I’ll ask differently then. Do you work together?”

Dumbledore leans back and crosses his legs elegantly. “No.”

This time, Travers cannot hide the short expression of frustration on his face but astonishingly doesn’t ask again. Albus narrows his eyes suspiciously. It is more than ominous that Travers is convinced this easily.

“But you _did_ meet?” Fawley asks again, as if this hadn’t been made clear by the questions asked before.

Albus almost shakes his head, but says patiently, “Yes, we spent two months in the same village before we had a rather horrendous falling-out. We haven’t spoken or had any contact since.”

For the first time, Seraphina Picquery clears her throat and brings the attention of the room to her. 

She has a surprisingly pleasant voice as she asks with a bright tone, “Mr. Dumbledore, you have repeated towards the British Ministry of Magic over and over again that you cannot fight Grindelwald. Is that because of the Blood Pact you created with him?” She cannot suppress a slight bitterness in her tone when she says Gellert’s name.

His tongue feels like it interlaces within itself. He doesn’t want to answer that question but, somehow, he opens his mouth anyway. Before he spits out the _whole_ truth, though, he manages to restrain himself a bit, but it is still too much: “Yes I _cannot_ fight him because of the blood pact. We swore not to fight each other.” 

The court rings with whispered conversations, but this time he is too distracted with what he had just said. Or rather, the last part, which he had definitely not wanted to say.

A very dark suspicion, begins to transform in the back of his mind but before he can think of it further, he is ripped out of his thoughts, as he hears Travers edgy voice asking bluntly: “Why would you swear that?”

This time Dumbledore bites his tongue before it can go autonomous until he tastes blood and copper. 

Truth spell.

It must be.

His tongue rebels and he reflects quickly on what he can say without revealing everything and he doesn’t but he still makes a mistake: “Because Gellert was worried that one day we might.” He realizes his mistake immediately. 

_“Gellert?”_ Seraphina Picquery’s voice repeats detached. “ _Gellert_ sounds very friendly to me.”

“Yes, Madam President, yes indeed.”, Travers chuckles, but she ignores him and focuses on Albus instead. “Tell me, Mr. Dumbledore. Are you and Gellert Grindelwald still friends?”

“No,” he says testing his new theory about the truth spell. It was true, Gellert and he hadn’t been friends for quite some time and this time, he didn’t have to fight the urge to talk. The answer had come easily to him. Whatever Gellert and he were now was certainly not friends. If they had ever truly been. The American interrogator smiles a thin smile but nods in acceptance.

Travers starts anew and vocalizes the next question. “Dumbledore, you-“

However, Albus interrupts him, losing his patience. “What exactly, pray tell, have you done to me?” he whispers. Calm, stern, powerful. He can feel magic quietly singing within his blood and some members of the Wizengamot, that are sitting in the front rows, are shifting uncomfortably in their seats.  
Not Travers however. His expression doesn’t betray anything, probably thanks to years of experience and training.

“What are you-“

“ _Don’t _insult my intelligence, Travers.”, his voice dangerously soft.__

____

The Head of the Magical Law Enforcement looks quite angry at that but gazes at Fawley. The Minister seems to slip a bit deeper into his seat, yet sighs and gives an affirming nod. 

Travers grinds his teeth but obeys nonetheless. He straightens his back and informs with truly disgusting smugness, “A new invention by our Department of Mystery called Veritaserum. It compels you to tell the truth, Dumbledore. The _whole_ truth!”

____

The professor can’t stop his hands from forming tight fists as a brief wave of numbness overcomes him. 

The whispers start again, but this time they are a mix between protests and approval. Newt’s expression is positively enraged, as is Jacob Kowalski’s. Auror Goldstein and Mr. Kama, however, look thoughtful as if they don’t know what exactly to say to that. 

“You can’t do that!” his old student exclaims loudly and Albus feels a wave of affection for the usually shy wizard.

The truth. The _whole_ truth. The words still ring through his ears and he has trouble wrapping his thoughts around that statement. He desperately searches his memories for an answer as to when he had been bewitched. He hadn’t felt any magic. He had only been with the two Aurors before he had come here and they definitely weren’t skilled enough to cast a truth spell as strong as it is now. Maybe before today? No, those kind of enchantments do not last long enough. 

Veritaserum. _Veritaserum._ A potion. He must have drunk a potion today but when is again the question-

____

He slowly turns his head to Theseus. 

__

His old student has a slight flush covering his cheeks but looks determinedly back.

__

Of course. The cup of tea that Theseus had prepared. The same cup of tea that Dumbledore, known for his sweet tooth, had filled with sugar so that every flavour of the serum would be covered. If the serum even had a one. Maybe it was tasteless. One way or the other, Dumbledore had fallen for the trick. 

__

Newt, of course, smart boy, has noticed his old professor’s gaze and his eyes widen comically before he starts whispering furiously with his brother.

__

Albus looks back to his interrogators. He waits for some form of anger at the older Scamander but it doesn’t come. Theseus doesn’t owe him anything. While Newt is quite fond of Albus, the professor has made the mistake and assumed that that counted for the older Scamander as well. But still, _it hurt-_

__

But he understands. 

__

Leta Lestrange. 

__

The woman Theseus had loved, had _wanted to marry_ , killed by a wizard who was bound by ancient magic to his old teacher. 

__

_“I don’t know who to trust right now.”_

__

Dumbledore had of course realised that Theseus had meant him as well, but to go this far?

__

_We all do the strangest things for the people we love._

__

No, Dumbledore could never demand Theseus to decide between Leta and Albus.  
Even if she is dead. 

__

He does feel rage, but it is directed towards the leaders of the Wizengamot and his current interrogators. Despite his shackles, the chandeliers begin to rattle and the atmosphere in the room becomes thick. Some of the wizards are watching him anxiously.

__

Only now, his current situation seems to sink in. If it is true what Travers said, that he is compelled to betray his secrets, then there is a possibility that he will tell everything.  
About that legendary summer, about the Hallows, about Gellert, _about Ariana_ -

__

No, that cannot happen. He carefully tests the restrictions of the heavy metal around his wrists, and while his magic is not completely suppressed, it is by far not strong enough to direct it towards himself and silence his voice, or for any other solution that depends on magic.

__

No, his magical skills will not help him here, as well as his talent for evading difficult questions. He needs a different strategy from now on. 

__

“What you have done is highly immoral, Travers.”, Dumbledore says coldly and the hall quietens immediately at the cold fury lingering in his voice. 

__

The Head of Magical Law Enforcement looks righteous and Dumbledore cannot detect a hint of insecurity in his eyes. 

__

“Grindelwald wants to take down the International Statute of Secrecy. He is razing cities throughout Europe and gains followers every day. You obviously know more than you want to tell us and at the same time claim that you cannot do anything against him, instead-“

__

“I can’t.”, Albus interrupts, not caring if he is rude, ”Because, as I have already mentioned, I made a _Vow_ , which _you_ recently declared illegal.” 

__

Travers’ tapping fingers betray his impatience. Deciding to ignore Dumbledore’s last statement he sneers, “So, you are telling me that you are staying at Hogwarts for the simple pleasure of teaching children?”

__

“Yes, indeed. The joys of being a professor.”, Albus says, relaxing a bit at the faltering composure of his vis-à-vis. “In fact, I have a student that, after I gave him detention for two months, decided to throw a rather childish tantrum and tried to ignite _my_ hair.” He gives Travers a wry smile. “You would get along dazzling, I am sure.“

__

A quiet laugh comes from the sector of the German delegation and Albus turns his head a bit to find out who it is but the brown-haired man has already fallen silent as Travers stands up, clearly enraged now. 

__

“Grindelwald has declared _war_ on us! I intend to answer! And if I have to use a simple potion to tickle his little secrets out of you, I will.”

__

There were some approving shouts and Albus lifts his chin slightly. 

__

“A will-dimming potion, Travers! You might as well have used the Imperius-curse.”

__

Dead silence. 

__

Travers breathes out so sharply, that his nostrils widen and the fever of his hatred makes his eyes almost seem inhuman. ”Don’t be ridiculous, Dumbledore,” he spits. “That would be illegal. We just want the information, and you know more, don’t you, Dumbledore?”

__

“Yes”, he grits his teeth, the compulsion conducting his mouth again. 

__

Before anyone can give more affirmation or protest, Travers takes up his parchments again. 

__

“Let’s continue!” he demands, scanning the paper while Albus braces himself.

__

“Where were we? Ah, yes. The blood oath-“

__

“Forgive me, Torquil, but I’d like to ask something else first.”, the President of MACUSA says calmly. She turns her intense gaze towards him. 

__

“The Obscurial, Credence Barebone. I have been informed that Grindelwald has done a lot to convince him to join his cause. Do you know why?”

__

The answer hurts. Merlin, the answer to this question _hurts_.

__

“I assume that he wants him to assassinate me”, he says with a flat voice. A brief expression of confusion flits over Madam Picquery’s face. 

__

“He wants to see you dead, although you used to be friends?”

__

“I don’t think Grindelwald regarded us as friends. He is, and has always been, drawn to power first and foremost and I happen to have enough of that. Gellert used me. He didn’t have any kind of more complex feelings for me. I was easy enough to manipulate.”

__

Albus is briefly at a loss for words. It hurts so _much_ to say all of that. To think it is maddening enough. To see it every time in the _Mirror of Erised_ is torturing. But to actually _exclaim_ it is plainly defeating. 

__

“His policy is, that _nothing_ is allowed to get in the way of the Cause”, Albus finishes quietly and it takes all his willpower not to let any form of emotion slip into his voice. He refuses to sound wounded or _vulnerable_ and settles for gripping the armrests tighter than he needs to. But still, he cannot hide a hint of bitterness.

__

And the Madam President has caught on to it. 

__

“Is that why he wants to kill you?”

__

“He believes that I am a threat to his cause.”

__

“Can you stop him?” Fawley asks greedily. 

__

“I honestly don’t know.” 

__

He really didn’t. Even if Albus is in possession of the Troth again, it was likely that Gellert had already found the Elder Wand, if the rumours were anything to go by.

__

The American interrogator gives him a small smile: “Almost the whole wizarding world seems to think that you are the only one who could.”

__

_But you don't._

__

Albus nods politely, anyway: “Thank you.”

__

There is now something glittering in the eyes of the Madam President, cunning and predatory. “I think we have been asking the wrong questions, Torquil.” 

__

“What do you mean, Madam President?” he asks roughly. 

__

_Oh, what a clever woman._ Albus curses silently but can’t help but be impressed. 

__

The Madam starts again, but with something completely different than Albus had expected:

__

“Grindelwald’s visions, what do you know about them?”

__

_Clever, clever, clever, no simple yes or no questions anymore. He has to give more information like that._

__

“Gellert already had them when I met him. He used to show them to me. They were horrible, mostly about war, death and destruction. He predicted the Great War, fifteen years before it actually started and he was right about every single detail. The skull, destroyed by Leta Lestrange during the rally in Paris, allowed him to show his visions to others, though I could use simple legilimency to see them.” He dares a brief look at Newt and his friends. Jacob Kowalski looks both terrified and awed. 

__

“Simple?” Seraphina chuckles. 

__

“For me, yes”, Dumbledore says and Travers rolls his eyes. 

__

“Did he ever have visions about you?”

__

“Yes.”

__

“What kind of visions?” 

__

Oh no, that was something he definitely didn’t want to share. He bites his tongue again and winces lightly, when his teeth find the wound from earlier in the interrogation. But the foreign magic that is cursing through his blood thanks to the serum forces his lips apart. “He had a vision of an Obscurus killing me. That is probably why he wants Credence Barebone to-“

__

“Kill you, yes! You already mentioned it,” Travers snaps, annoyed, and Dumbledore has never been so glad to hear that oily voice. Seraphina Picquery throws the Head of Magical Law Enforcement a dark look and Dumbledore breathes. She just missed her chance at getting more out of him. They have both recognized each other as the true players of this game.

__

Albus inhales deeply. He can do this. He can still _win_ this. He only needs to stay calm and control his tongue long enough to pick out which answers he wants to give. Madam Picquery has started a tactic where he is forced to give more information -no simple yes-or no-answers. He could turn this to his advantage and tell them a little bit too much. A flood of irrelevance.

__

Travers speaks again: “What do you know about Gellert Grindelwald?”

__

Albus almost sighs in relief. That is not a difficult question. He tries his new strategy. “Not a lot, I am afraid. I know that he is originally from the former Austrian-Hungarian Empire, though I cannot say from which part exactly since he speaks both German and Hungarian perfectly. He studied at Durmstrang where he got expelled from during his sixth year for performing questionable experiments. He left, but not without carving his sign into one of their walls.”

__

“That’s all?”

__

“He likes Tchaikovsky, though he is a Muggle composer, which is kind of ironic if you ask me, and has absolutely no tolerance for alcohol, despite how much he claims otherwise”, Albus says cheerfully and he hears another laugh, this time a woman from the French section. 

__

“Otherwise-“

__

“Alright, alright,” Travers interrupts and scans through his parchment. Albus fights back a smirk. Excellent. Travers' hatred for hearing him talk will make this easier. Albus had so much more sensitive information, like the Elder Wand for example. He doesn’t contemplate on why exactly he is holding those things back.

__

This could work. 

__

Tapping his right index finger in a calming rhythm on the armrest, he feels a new sense of determination filling him.  
Looking out of the corner of his eye, he risks a glance at Newt and his friends once more. The magizoologist looks very deep in thought while Auror Goldstein discusses something with Mr. Kowalski and Mr. Kama -probably his latest answer. Theseus looks a little disgusted. 

__

Dumbledore can understand why. It is indeed bizarre to imagine the most powerful dark wizard in the world, known for his ruthlessness and iron will, the unseen threat hovering over the Wizard Community, to do something humanizing like listen to music. Or get drunk.  
However, Albus is afraid that he will never be able separate the 17 year old Gellert from the man who is on his way of becoming the most dangerous wizard in the world. Gellert, with whom he had shared ripe, green apples on a lazy summer day while discussing their plans to make the world a better place. The Gellert who absently held his wand aloft like a baton as he conducted an unseen Muggle orchestra through Tchaikovsky’s ‘1812’ while intensely reading one of Bathilda’s old books about the deeper mysteries of magic.

__

Albus chuckles quietly before he catches himself again. Such memories had no place here. Luckily, his interrogators don’t possess the ability to perform Legilimency.

__

He is sure, that Gellert’s reputation could tolerate some slight maculation. 

__

He directs his gaze towards Travers again, who is ready to ask the next question: “How did the two of you meet?”

__

“His great-aunt, the famous historian Bathilda Bagshot, was our neighbour. A lovely, elderly woman who thought I was in dire need of friends. You see, there weren’t a lot of people my age in my village at that time. Gellert came to visit her after he was expelled and we met when she invited me for coffee.” 

__

“You met the biggest threat to our civilization over coffee?” Fawley gawks. 

__

Albus eyes twinkle; “And lemon cake. My favourite.”

__

More laughter at that, this time from multiple sides, though still a bit uncomfortable. The crowd has started to relax as well. 

__

Travers is practically seething now. “That is nothing of necessity!" he almost yells.

__

“Well, Torquil, I only spent two months with him. What did you expect?”

__

Travers and he eye each other. They both know that the interrogating side just lost some of the conviction of the spectators. 

__

“So, you spent two months just eating lemon cake?” Travers mutters sarcastically, for the lack of anything better to say.

__

And it is a mistake, because Albus has to answer a question, rhetorical or not, and his expression is amused. “Oh no. There were chocolate frogs, Berty Bott’s Every Flavour Beens-I got one that tasted like vomit and-“

__

“Be silent!”, Travers grinds and Albus restrains himself from smiling. 

__

There is a brief pause where Travers subtly tries to find his footing again. Though Albus feels calmer than before, he cannot suppress a hint of nervousness. He is still bound to answer truthfully and finds himself at a terrible disadvantage. His apprehensions are confirmed when the next person speaks. 

__

“There is something quite interesting that you said, Mr. Dumbledore.” There is an edge to Seraphina Picquery’s voice that tells Albus she’s had enough.

__

Albus looks at her. 

__

“ _I only spent two months with him._ Wondrous, that you make a blood pact with someone that you spent such a short time with."

__

Albus stays silent. No question was asked. 

__

“Mr. Dumbledore, how long had you known each other before you made the blood pact?”

__

He swallows drily. “Two weeks.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that Tina Goldstein’s eyebrows have raised so high they’ve almost disappeared under her fringe.

__

“Why did you part after only two months, when it only took you two weeks to enter an eternal bond?” Albus frowns at the choice of words.

“I have already mentioned that we had a dispute.”

__

“What was it about?”

__

 

__

_Oh, Merlin’s beard!_

__

Albus grinds his teeth and bites his tongue until he feels actual blood in his mouth this time. ”He was willing to make sacrifices that I wasn’t.”

__

Picquery’s eyes are glittering. Travers practically reeks of triumph and Fawley looks absolutely gormless with his mouth wide open.

__

“Sacrifices for what?”

__

“The Greater Good.”

__

There are scared exclamations at Grindelwald’s infamous motto, as if the dark lord himself was going to jump out from behind the chairs. Hasty whispers break out between the Wizards, their concerned gazes flitting between the Madam President and Dumbledore. Albus realizes, that his answer implies that the “Greater Good” is something Grindelwald has pursued since he was only sixteen years old and that this might indeed be disconcerting. The professor can feel his nervousness increasing steadily. Seraphina Picquery is far smarter than Travers and he can almost see the suspicion forming behind her shrewd eyes. 

__

“Mr. Dumbledore, you mentioned that you are not one of his followers.”

__

“Indeed, I am not.”

__

“Again, are you working with him?”

__

“No.”

__

“ _Have_ you ever worked with him?”

__

_She got him!_

__

He clenches his armrests so tightly, that he is sure that his hands will carry bruises at a later date. With all his willpower he tries to suppress the upcoming answer, tries to seal his lips shut, but the force of the serum is overwhelming. 

__

His voice hoarse from effort as he answers, “Yes”

__

This time, the shouts are louder, in denial and confused. Albus looks around and sees wizards shaking their head, not wishing to believe that it was true; that the _great_ Albus Dumbledore, the only one who could _possibly_ stop the coming threat, preacher of love and defender of Muggles, had once worked with the _terrible_ Gellert Grindelwald.  
He sees Newt’s face; it has gone pale and he has cast his eyes down. Theseus looks enraged, but not necessarily surprised, similar to Mr. Kama. Miss Goldstein looks like she is cursing in her mind but it is Mr. Kowalski’s reaction that hits him the most: he just looks plainly disappointed.

__

Dumbledore can feel shame bubbling in his stomach. 

__

“In those two months, you worked with Grindelwald to bring down the International Statute of Secrecy?” the Madam President repeats, though she doesn’t need his exact confirmation. There is no other time he could have done that.

__

“Yes.”

__

Travers is practically jumping up and down on his seat as he yells, “Arrest him!” but the American witch orders with all her authority, “No. I have further questions!”

__

The hall quietens again, the crowd hanging on every word of Madam Picquery and Albus Dumbledore.

__

She waits patiently until the room is in completely silent before continuing. “‘Magic blooms only in rare souls,’” she recites all too familiar words, “‘Muggles are not worthless, but of different value’… _‘For the Greater Good’_ …those weren’t originally his words, were they?”

Albus can only give one simple answer, as he sits there with a horrible numbness overcoming him. “No.”

__

“They are yours?”

__

“Yes.” 

__

This time there were no exclamations. No-one was making a sound. Even Travers was sitting on the edge of his seat, his attention completely wrapped in the questioning that was happening before him. 

__

“And you told him those things during the summer spent together.”

__

“Yes.”

__

“So, you believe in _the Greater Good_?”

__

“Yes!” Albus exclaims, his voice betraying his frustration. He continues before someone can interrupt him, “Yes, I believe that the Statute of Secrecy should be taken down, but that is a widely-spread opinion that, if I may remind you, everyone is entitled to have in a democracy!”

__

There are affirmative nods, especially from the German delegation, and he hopes that nobody has noticed the little word change he slipped in. The Greater Good is so much more than the Statute of Secrecy.

__

“And, again, we parted ways after two months for reasons like our disagreement on his ways of violence. “ _But only in the very end._

__

Merlin and Morgana, he is truly a hypocrite, isn’t he? 

__

The professor notices absently, that he is still gripping the armrests too tightly and releases them slowly.

__

“ _For reasons like our disagreement on his ways of violence_.”, Madam Picquery repeats and Dumbledore curses the serum soundlessly in his mind, with words that would make his students faint. 

__

“What were the other reasons? Or perhaps, the main reason?”

__

Albus’ eyes widen but the words tumble out before he can do anything to stop them. “My sister,” he mumbles, voice heavy with sorrow.

__

Picquery seems confused, ”Sister?”

__

“Ariana Dumbledore”

__

A quiet murmur goes through the crowd. Not a lot of people know that he has siblings. 

__

_Used to have._

__

He clenches his hands to fists and his gaze becomes unseeing.  
_Please don’t ask. Not about her. Not about Ariana_ , he pleas silently.

__

But they will, because if they observe well enough, then they can see that she is his weakness. His burden. His sin. And Seraphina Picquery is nothing but observant

“What happened?”

__

“She died that summer.”

__

His guilt must be displayed so obviously on his face, that it made the next question easy.

__

“Because of you?”

__

“Yes.”

__

He bends his head down in shame and swallows drily a few times. 

__

“Did you kill her?”

__

“I don’t know.”

__

“Grindelwald did then.”

__

“I don’t know.” A beat. “She was an Obsucurial.”

__

He hears a loud gasp and can immediately recognizes it as Newt’s. He doesn’t look though. 

__

The President of MACUSA leans back in her chair, deep in thought, while Travers seems to have become impatient. “Seraphina, we have enough testimony-“

__

She lifts a finger and he actually falls silent. Albus would have laughed if he wasn’t feeling miserable.

__

She had found the entrance to Pandora’s box and now she only had to follow the trail. 

__

“One last thing." 

__

Albus fears her next questions. He truly does. 

__

“Blood oaths are not very common. In fact, they are ancient and the last one dated was in 1822, as already mentioned. Their purpose is not only to force the participants to keep up a promise, but to bind two souls together for eternity.”

__

She pauses and Albus isn’t sure if it is for dramatic effect or if she is waiting for his confirmation. Either way, he doesn’t answer, so she continues. “They were also used for the act of marriage.” Travers whips his head around so fast that it must have hurt. 

__

Albus slowly closes his eyes. He cannot bear to look at Newt or Theseus or anyone else. 

__

“And our spies are reporting, that Grindelwald considers _you_ to be _his only_ equal.”

__

He swallows heavily, eyes blinking open again and once more he grips the armrests too tightly. 

__

_She knows. She knows. She knows. ___

_____ _

“One of his arguments to convince Miss Queenie Goldstein were _Working towards a world where wizards are free to live openly, and to __**love freely.**_ I realize only now the significance of those words.”__

_______ _ _ _

There is nothing to say and he waits frightenedly for the words she speaks next.

_______ _ _ _

“Mr. Dumbledore, is Gellert Grindelwald a sodomite?”

_______ _ _ _

_I am sorry, Gellert. Merlin, I am so, so sorry._

_______ _ _ _

The magic forces his lips apart and he answers with an almost inaudibly,  
“Yes.”

_______ _ _ _

“Have you and Grindelwald ever been in a relationship?”

_______ _ _ _

“Of course. He was my friend”, he answers flatly. 

_______ _ _ _

She chuckles, “Forgive me, I was unclear; have you and Gellert Grindelwald ever been in a sexual relationship?”

_______ _ _ _

Dumbledore is practically choking on his own tongue now. His nails are digging deeply into the wood of his chair.

_______ _ _ _

That was it. He would never return to Hogwarts. 

_______ _ _ _

_“Yes.”_

_______ _ _ _

The defeated whisper echoes through the hall before it gets drowned in the ear-splitting shouts of the spectators. 

_______ _ _ _

Many have leaped to their feet, seats crashing to the floor as they did, shaking their fists while they scream their voices hoarse.

_______ _ _ _

_Freak! Monstrosity! Dirty blood!_

_______ _ _ _

Those are the most radical ones. 

_______ _ _ _

_Traitor! Defiler! Lock him up!_

_______ _ _ _

He lets their words wash over him as his eyes wander, empty.

_______ _ _ _

Albus can see disgust present on their faces. Funnily enough, his brain begins to reason logically that there is no way that every single person in this hall is _exclusively_ attracted to the opposite gender.  
His ears are ringing with the deafening roar of the International Wizengamot -Travers is the loudest of them all- as they howl, “Arrest him, arrest him, arrest him!”

_______ _ _ _

“ _No!_ ” Seraphina Picqueriy, President of MACUSA stands now, her voice thundering and commanding respect. A goddess among her peers with a fallen wizard in the middle. 

_______ _ _ _

“Mr. Dumbledore”, she says and a slight pant in her otherwise even voice betrays her agitation. He briefly wonders if she has anything against sodomites or if she just wants to see him arrested for his former allegiance with Gellert, not that it matters anyway.

_______ _ _ _

“Mr. Dumbledore, have you been, _and still are,_ in love with the _murderer_ Gellert Grindelwald?”

_______ _ _ _

 

_______ _ _ _

The room is dead silent now, everyone seemingly holding their breath. 

_______ _ _ _

Nobody makes a noise. They are all holding their breath.  
The atmosphere seems to vibrate with tension. 

_______ _ _ _

Albus can feel something wet in his eyes.

_______ _ _ _

 

_______ _ _ _

“Yes”, he answers; quiet but steady.

_______ _ _ _

 

_______ _ _ _

The Madam President’s eyes become hard, harder than before.

_______ _ _ _

“Aurors, arrest Mr. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. He is convicted in all charges and additional for former allegation with the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald, conspiracy against the International Statute of Secrecy, the British Ministry of Magic and the Magical Congress of the United States of America and acting as co-perpetrator in the pervasiveness of the so-called cause _the Greater Good_ , as well as the crime of performed sodomy. His wand will be destroyed and he is sentenced to life-long imprisonment in the facility of Azkaban.”

_______ _ _ _

 

_______ _ _ _

It takes seconds that feel like years until the words break through and set his still mind into motion. 

_______ _ _ _

 

_______ _ _ _

Azkaban.

_______ _ _ _

Where his father died. 

_______ _ _ _

 

_______ _ _ _

Albus can feel the shackles loosen from his wrists. His magic lashes out, aggressively and on its own accord, and several wizards are knocked off their feet.  
He is almost immediately restrained by dozens of Aurors at the Ministry’s command, from all around the world.

_______ _ _ _

They lead him to the end of the room, his legs moving automatically and direct him towards the door. 

_______ _ _ _

He realizes suddenly that he sees the faces of Newt, Jacob Kowalski and Tina Goldstein. Newt is screaming something but he can’t make out if it is an insult or anything else. Jacob Kowalski looks desperate and close to tears while Auror Goldstein is arguing fiercely with another wizard. 

_______ _ _ _

It doesn’t matter anyway and he soon loses sight of them as he gets dragged out and then guided along the louring, dark corridor.

_______ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so first: I am sorry!
> 
> Let's start with Theseus and Seraphina Picquery (both are characters that I really like)
> 
> 1.) Theseus: Sorry, but someone had to give Dumbledore the serum and he would have never accepted the tea from Travers or someone else from the Ministry. It had to be someone he trusts.  
> I hope, I could explain Theseus reasons at least a little bit.
> 
> 2.) Seraphina: She is a powerful woman who recognizes Grindelwald as the threat he is and she is ready to take the initiative and do anything to stop him (and that includes arresting Albus Dumbledore).  
> One cannot forget that Grindelwald is a mystery to anyone and fighting someone you know close to nothing about is very difficult. Dumbledore has deliberately withheld information as well as helped him.  
> Personally, I don't think she is homophobic.  
> I hope, she is not too much out of character. 
> 
> Additional: I know only the book facts about Veritaserum. I just claim that it was invented in 1927. 
> 
> And last: There will be a second chapter and Grindelwald will appear.


	2. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Remember me saying, that this was only going to have two chapters? Or, remember me admitting, that this was originally supposed to be a one-shot? Yeah, haha, good old times.  
> Here comes my second chapter, I hope you'll enjoy it! It has become even longer than the first chapter, and I am really sorry about that. I am a bit of an over-analyzer and I want to express every little detail. 
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments; they really made me smile all the time during the last two weeks. You rule!
> 
> P.S: I forgot to mention in the Note-section of the first chapter, that English is not my mother tongue, so there will be mistakes.  
> P.P.S: I've realized that I made a lot of grammar mistakes in the first chapter and edited it, as well as added some small bits.

_**2nd of June, Newt’s apartment, London** _

 

_Daily Prophet:_

_ALBUS DUMBLEDORE CONVICTED FOR ALLEGIANCE WITH DARK WIZARD GELLERT GRINDELWALD_

_On the first day of June, Albus Dumbledore, known for the discovery of the twelve uses of Dragon blood and former teacher at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, has been tried by an International Wizardgamot, assembled in the halls of the British Ministry of Magic, and found guilty for former allegiance with the mass-murdering criminal Gellert Grindelwald. While this came as a surprise to the Wizard Population, lead interrogator Torquil Travers, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has hinted that his division has been investigating the professor for a while now._

_“We have already questioned the convict at Hogwarts about a month ago, before Grindelwald’s appearance in Paris. He denied any contact with Grindelwald, yet refused repeatedly to collaborate with the Ministry. I already had my suspicions, back then, but there was no concrete evidence until he confessed at his trial.”_

_Second interrogator Madam Picquery, President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America, has asserted that Dumbledore has been accused of deliberate misdirection, withholding sensitive information, as well as creating the foundation of the so-called ideology “For the Greater Good” and has been convicted in all charges.  
Apparently, he has admitted during the process that he invented the primal drafts along with the dark wizard, whom he had been close friends with at the time, in the year of 1899. _

_President Picquery: “I can validate that Albus Dumbledore affirmed our question, whether he once worked towards the same goal as Grindelwald at one point, and continued with the statement, that he still believes that the Statute of Secret should be rescinded.”_

_After that response, the Wizardgamot had already enough testimony to arrest Dumbledore, but the gravest accusation had yet to follow:  
The interrogators have indicated that Albus Dumbledore regarded Gellert Grindelwald not only as a close friend, but had an intimate relationship during the time they worked together. According to our sources, Dumbledore has openly confirmed this and declared that to this day, he still harbours romantic feelings for the greatest threat to Wizard Community. _

_While this statement lacks tangible evidence, it is indeed possible that Dumbledore-_

“And the rest are just speculation theories”, Nagini finishes quietly, putting the newspaper down on the table. “They didn’t even mention that Truth-Serum.”

Nobody responds anything to that. 

It is the morning after the trial and they all sit around the table in the dining room of Newt’s apartment: Nagini, who has been staying here since they returned from Hogwarts and without any other place to go to; Tina, who had demanded a vacation after the fiasco that was supposed to be Credence’s rescue; Yusuf Kama, who stayed over the night, although he’s the only one who has his own place in London; and Jacob, who vehemently refuses to leave Newt alone, despite how often the Magizoologist repeats that the coming fight will be dangerous for a Muggle. 

_I ain’t leaving you all, Newt. It would be the worst possible moment. Besides, I am getting Queenie back and that lunatic is not gonna stop me._

Secretly, he is glad for that. 

The table in front of them is full with all sorts of breakfast elements: Croissants, sweet pastries, scrambled eggs and beans, butter and jam, juices and coffee. Nagini has set it for them, after she realised that none of them had gotten any sleep tonight. Jacob had assisted her, somehow managing to conjure fresh goods with the little ingredients Newt stores at home (There is a lot of food for his creatures, though. He just forgets sometimes to buy something for himself, when he goes grocery shopping). 

Newt doesn’t really want to be here. 

After they had entered his apartment yesterday evening, he had gone immediately to his suitcase and disappeared in it. There, he had sought for peace, surrounded by only his beasts and no wizards or witches. _Humans_ , in general.

It was nothing personal. Not at all, but he had just needed some _quiet_ to process what he had heard. What he had _learned_ that day. 

Their little group had stayed in that dreadful court room for so long, discussing and debating vehemently. Tina demanding that they couldn’t arrest Dumbledore for the crime of lo- _loving_ another man (no matter _who_ it was), Newt furiously starting to argue with his brother (who had to leave in an instant, though; to follow Dumbledore’s guards), and then with Travers, who had shown absolutely inacceptable behaviour. 

_“Your concerns have been noted, Scamander, however: don’t think that there will be anything done about it! Dumbledore has sung like a little bird and I was right all along. No more secret spy-games. And now excuse me, I need to see if the Aurors have properly secured the convict.”_

Newt is a man of peace. He really is. 

But he had seriously contemplated punching the Head of Magical Law Enforcement in the face. 

_And Dumbledore’s eyes when they had dragged him out. He had tried to call out to his old professor, who had looked emptily into the air, but-_

Newt shudders and lifts his gaze a bit. 

Jacob had to practically drag him out of his suitcase so he would attend the round. As soon as he had sat down, the Magizoologist had noticed that Tina had dark circles beneath her eyes as well and felt immediately bad for not being with her. It is still an unfamiliar concept, to be around someone who cares so much for him (in this _special way_ , not like his brother). 

They had all settled in their chairs, delicious food in front of them, untouched by everyone and then…then that horrible article had been brought per morning-owl into his apartment. 

“So…are we gonna talk about it?”, Jacob starts hesitantly.

Newt takes a sip of his orange juice and contemplates nibbling at one of the muffins the baker has prepared for them, but his stomach already turns at the very thought. 

“About what? How the British Ministry has used a _will-subjugating_ substance and _forced_ a statement from a civilian who was supposed to be under protection, innocent unless proven otherwise? Or that they put the only man who could defeat Grindelwald behind bars, without any further contemplation?”, Tina mutters and her voice, however sharp, is like balm for his soul. 

Yusuf Kama speaks up: “Your American Ministry has tortured Grindelwald for about six months, Ms. Goldstein, _and_ cut his tongue out.”

She flushes a bit: “Yes, but they left him his free will.”, the Auror mumbles, however, it is a weak argument. 

“I don’t think, that this _Veritaserum_ is necessarily something bad. It could prove itself as useful in the upcoming dark times.”, Yusuf says, putting his finger pads together in contemplation. 

“They absolutely _humiliated_ him in front of 200 Ministry officials from all around the world. He was _openly degraded_. That wasn’t a fair process, it was Travers showing off his ego. He might have lied but that didn’t give them the right to go as far as they have.”; Tina hisses. 

Kama looks at her unimpressed, but before he can reply, Nagini intervenes: “I thought Dumbledore has admitted his allegiance with Grindelwald?”, she says, trying to resolve the tensed atmosphere, apparently already gotten a brief summary of what had occurred. 

“ _Former_ allegiance”, Newt corrects her and speaks for the first time since they arrived at home. 

He can feel Tina’s gaze instantly turning towards him.

Nagini clears her throat awkwardly: “Right, _former_ allegiance.”

They sit in silence for a while, everyone deep in thought. 

Then, Jacob again: “I just…I never thought he’d be like that, ya know? He always seemed so...noble. And kind. Like - the wisest person I’ve met, yet. To think that he could see No-Maj’s -see _me_ \- as inferior...” The baker makes a distressed noise and Newt can feel his stomach rebelling again. 

It is surprisingly Tina who comes to Dumbledore’s defence: “Queenie went with that split-tongued snake and she _loves_ you.”

“Yes, but she hasn’t started it all along with Grindelwald, hasn’t she?”, Newt exclaims, but it lacks the bitterness he feels: “She hasn’t started a Non-Wizard-suppressing revolution because of it. _For the Greater Good_.”

Another round of silence.

The whole trial had been awful to watch. Seeing his old professor, his mentor, his friend (though he isn’t sure anymore, if Dumbledore had ever regarded him as such) forced to tell a room full of enemies about his deepest, darkest emotions, Veritaserum conducting his tongue despite his struggles-

It had been sickening. 

 

And with every word spilled, every secret revealed, Newt hadn’t been able but to feel a little bit betrayed. 

When he had learned that Dumbledore was going to be tried, he had immediately owled his brother to find out why. Theseus had told him, that the teacher was suspected of misguiding the Ministry and keeping secrets, probably the blood pact (a ritual that has suddenly been declared highly illegal). None of those things gave a proper reason to hold an actual disciplinary hearing and it had seemed rather fishy. They had just wanted to get Dumbledore in front of the interrogators’ desk.

Well, admittedly, he had been equally shocked to learn that Dumbledore had performed the ceremony with _Grindelwald_ , but they had been friends after all, something that was widely known in the British Ministry, thanks to over-eager gossipers. In Hogwarts, he had gotten over the first shock and been ready to help Dumbledore break the pendant. On top of that, it was the long missing explanation why he wouldn’t move against his old companion. 

Funnily enough, Yusuf Kama, Tina and Jacob had gotten an actual invitation to the process while Newt hadn’t. Yusuf Kama as a witness in case they needed testimony and Tina as one of the representatives of MACUSA (that should have been their first clue that something wasn’t right: the involvement of a Non-British organisation). They had thought at first that Jacob’s invitation must be a mistake, but it had said, just like Kama’s, that he was invited as a witness. Newt had asked his brother if he could find a way so that he could attend too and, to everyone’s surprise, Theseus had actually done it. 

Dumbledore’s trial had been held in the biggest courtroom the Ministry had, according to his older sibling. They had needed the space for all the international wizards. 

The little group should have recognized the way Dumbledore entered the court room as the second clue. As soon as his old professor had settled down on the interrogation-chair, he had been tied to it by chains, like someone, who was already found guilty (although Dumbledore had looked quite relaxed). 

The beginning of the process had been just as ridiculous as Newt had anticipated. Travers proving his paranoid belief that Dumbledore was a conspirator, by asking the accused again and again, in every possible form, if he was allied with Grindelwald. Which Dumbledore answered with no, of course. 

The only unexpected thing was when Dumbledore mentioned Newt’s name. The Magizoologist had seen the surprise in Dumbledore’s eyes when he had said that, especially due to their mutual agreement that Newt wouldn’t talk about the vial. 

His name had been said a lot in general, especially in connection with New York. 

But it didn’t matter. Nothing happened. 

Until Serpahina Picquery had asked her first question. 

Back in New York, the Madam President had struck him as one of the most controversial people he’s ever met. She ordered her Aurors to kill Credence, but gave Tina her job back for outstanding work during the process. She admitted that the MACUSA owed Newt a great debt, after he had come up with the idea to use Frank to erase the Muggles’ memories, but demanded that Jacob should be obliviated, despite his help during the Graves-situation. 

She had judged fairly during the international assembly, but, like Kama already mentioned, had later cut Grindelwald’s tongue out before he even had received trial and consequently left him with no way of defending himself that way (Not, that a lot of wizards would have been sad about that). 

Now, he knows better. It’s just when the Statute of Secrecy is involved, that Picquery shows her radical side. The president is a very conservative and strong believer in division; someone, who would stop at nothing to keep the two worlds, the Magical World and the Muggles, separated. 

Newt huffs into his cup. 

_And someone who believes that we are powerful enough without Dumbledore on our side. She doesn’t let herself be guided by fear, like Fawley, or hatred, like Travers._

But it had been all collusive, hadn’t it? The entire time. Manipulated.  
And with the right opponent and a primed victim, it had been all too easy.

In the end, Dumbledore’s perfect defence had slipped. 

Merlin, the look on his face when his old professor had discovered that he been poisoned. Newt had _never_ seen Dumbledore furious before, but then, in that courtroom, despite being chained, despite sitting _lower_ than his interrogators, despite being at a disadvantage, Dumbledore had radiated _raw power_ so strongly, that Newt had understood for the first time _why_ exactly he was called the most powerful wizard of Great Britain. 

And Newt had been angry too. 

Subjugating someone’s will in front of hundreds of wizards was an absolute _detestably_ thing to do, especially without telling anyone. It was hypocritical and horrendous and proved once more why humans were the true beasts in the world. 

He had shouted enraged, until Dumbledore had looked at him. 

A moment of confusion had stopped his triad.

No, not at him.

At _Theseus._

Theseus, whose facial features had been an expression between guilt and determination.  
Merlin, his brother had been lucky that the process had continued, otherwise he would have heard something far worse from Newt. 

He puts his cup on the table and clutches his hands. 

Picquery had taken over the lead after that reveal, with the question why Grindelwald wanted Credence so badly on his side. 

Newt had already known the reason, but had been still surprised when Dumbledore added, that he apparently thought that Grindelwald had used him. That, according to him, Grindelwald had recognized his potential and discarded him as soon as was done, no deeper feelings involved on his side - and Newt had noticed the subtle hurt that Dumbledore’s voice carried.

_But who wouldn’t be hurt? If someone you think of as friend only used you for the power you possess and then looks for an assassin to kill you?_

Right?

_They had all been so blind._

After that dangerous question, it had seemed like Dumbledore was winning some ground again. He had told them about Grindelwald’s visions, Grindelwald _himself_ , what he liked and disliked, how they actually met and for a very strange moment, Grindelwald had appeared almost _human._

A silly thought actually, because _of course_ Grindelwald was human, he was no god (even if he thinks of himself as one), but he had always been, first and foremost, a menace to everyone, a spectre, constantly hiding in the shadows. To hear someone tell them that Grindelwald liked to listen to Tchaikovsky and spoke Hungarian had been so… mundane, so unimportant and yet, so _central._

Was that how his old teacher saw the biggest threat to their civilization?

A boy? A friend, who he’d gotten drunk with (Newt had immediately banned that picture from his mind – imagining your teacher drunk was _weird_ ), who had laughed at him when he had eaten a vomit-flavoured been, who he had shared his precious candy with and actually…had fun with?

What a quirky idea.

Newt had truly been curious what else Dumbledore knew about him and caught himself, a bit ashamed, wishing the professor would continue. 

However, Travers, as always, had ruined it. 

The room had been amused after Dumbledore’s answers and Newt had realized what the wizard had done: He had relaxed anyone; started to make this whole trial seem like a joke, unnecessary, and just a waste of time. 

Unfortunately, Picquery had caught up as well.

And wasn’t she a clever woman. 

_“Wonderous, that you make a blood pact with someone that you’ve only spent such a short time with.”_

That was the sentence. From there, it all went downhill. They just hadn’t known it then. 

Newt had wondered as well. He had told himself over and over that Grindelwald and Dumbledore had been friends, that maybe performing an ancient ceremony was something young, powerful, reckless people would do, even Dumbledore was allowed to do one stupid thing in his life, but-

But-

_But something didn’t add up._

It had led to the question of the fall-out. Their little group had previously discussed a lot of ideas, why Dumbledore stopped any kind of contact with Grindelwald, though they were all relatively certain, that the professor had simply realized what a madman Grindelwald was and distanced himself from him. 

They hadn’t known that this question was going to be the beginning of the end. 

Who would have thought, who could possibly come up with the _sheer idea_ , that _Albus Dumbledore_ was the rhetorical genius behind Grindelwald’s speeches, behind Grindelwald’s feared motto? His professor, who always has- _had_ \- a box of emergency-candy stored in the left drawer of his office desk, in case his students were hungry or needed some cheering-up. The man, who likes to knit the most colourful clothing pieces in his free time, _without magic_ , when he wasn’t grading papers. The man who had invited Jacob into Hogwarts, the first _Muggle_ to ever enter. The man who always believed that there is something _good_ , something worth _saving_ , slumbering in everyone, no matter how clumsy or awkward they are. The man who had furiously argued on Newt’s behalf with the entire panel of Hogwarts, so he could stay, despite its hopelessness. 

_“In those two months, you worked with Grindelwald to bring down the International Statute of Secrecy?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“So, you believe in the Greater Good?”_

_“Yes!”_

Newt had been too overwhelmed to look at Dumbledore’s face at the moment. It had hurt. It had hurt _so much._ He went for Dumbledore to New York and encountered Grindelwald, no matter if it was planned or not. He had almost gotten executed in MACUSA. He thought that Credence had died. And during all this time he had been convinced, he had _trusted_ , that Dumbledore was on their side. 

How? How could he possibly be so _arrogant_ to think himself above other beings? 

(In this raging mix between shock and confusion, betrayal and pain, he had momentarily forgotten that Dumbledore had denied to be one of Grindelwald’s followers at present day).

It was just so…so unbelievable. Dumbledore had encouraged his pupils at Hogwarts to take Muggle Studies, “ _to understand them_ ”, he had defended Muggle-born witches and wizards openly to the point, where he was absolutely loathed by conservative pure-blood families and he had always chosen peace over war. 

So, what could have happened?

_“My sister.”_

Newt had only heard one other person speaking with the same amount of regret and sorrow as Dumbledore had in that moment: Leta, when she spoke of Corvus.

_“Ariana Dumbledore.”_

The shame on his facial features had been so absolutely evident to everyone. 

An Obscurial. Like Credence Barebone.

And Dumbledore and Grindelwald, somehow connected to her death.

After that, his old professor had lost every bit of control he’d previously had over the process. 

The mention of his sister had left him raw, ready for the vultures to pick on him. 

And oh, how Picquery had. She had been faster than the rest of them. 

_“To bind two souls together for eternity”_

A very poetic expression. Quite romantic, in fact

_“Is Gellert Grindelwald a sodomite?”_

It had been a quite surprising backflash. From conspiracy and secret complots, war and spies and traitors, to the question of something crude like sexual preferences. 

Simple, but so, so logical, if one dared to look or to think openly (Travers hadn’t).

_“Yes.”_

And suddenly questions like: “Does Dumbledore ever do anything else with people outside of Hogwarts, like go on a date?” or “I wonder if he’s in love with Professor Merrythought. They hang out together so often.”, posed by his fellow colleagues during their first year at Hogwarts, seemed so hilariously important.

_“Have you and Gellert Grindelwald ever been in a sexual relationship?”_

The answer had been so clearly radiated by Dumbledore, the Serum wouldn’t have needed to force him to say it out loud. 

_“Yes.”_

The room had positively exploded after that. Wizards and witches screaming at the convict, insulting him, demoting him. Ironically enough, it had reminded him of Grindelwald’s rally, when the conservative Pure-blooded spectators had hissed and shouted insults against Muggles, while Grindelwald stood in the middle, asserting that he didn’t hate _les Non-Magiques_ and didn’t see them as lesser. 

The reactions to Dumbledore’s statement had been terrible. Absolutely horrendous. 

How people could judge someone, only because they loved someone of their own gender, didn’t make sense to Newt. But he hadn’t wasted so many thoughts on it during all this because they had a war to win and he (apparently) hadn’t known anyone who might be a…a sodomite (that word had gotten a very bad taste after Picquery and Travers had used it). So, Dumbledore sitting in the middle between hundreds of snarling, arrogant wizards had been so deeply enraging to watch and he had been ready to jump up and argue but-

Picquery had asked her last question. 

A very unnecessary question in Newt’s opinion. Just plain cruel. The final defeat.

_“Professor Dumbledore, have you been, and still are, in love with the murderer Gellert Grindelwald?”_

A small part of Newt had hoped that Dumbledore would deny it. A small part had wished Dumbledore would look up and say: “I am not.”

_“Yes.”_

And just like that, it had been over. 

Dumbledore had been dragged away by at least a dozen Aurors, while Tina and he had jumped from their seats, demanding his release. They couldn’t lock him up, the sentence has been hasty, and it wasn’t something that got him into Azkaban and certainly not for love.

He had tried to catch Dumbledore’s gaze who had looked unseeingly into the air, like he had completely shut down. And when he had thought that Dumbledore actually saw him he tried to tell him that- he hadn’t known and he still doesn’t but _something-_

“I think, that something very bad must have happened. Wise people aren’t born. They are _made_.”, Nagini speaks in a very kind tone and her voice comes so surprising, like bursting a bubble that were his own thoughts, that he flinches enormously and almost falls of the chair. He had been trapped in his own mind. 

“What could have been so bad to start a revolution over it as a _teenager_?”, Jacob snorts.

Newt needs a moment to recall what Nagini had just said and another what Jacob had answered: “His sister”, he blurts, “Dumbledore stated that she was an Obscurial. Like Credence.”

Nagini flinches, barely noticeable, and Newt feels immediately regret. He hadn’t wanted to make her feel sad. 

He opens his mouth to apologize but Tina already continues: “Credence got abused by his No-Maj-stepmother. Maybe something like that happened to her as well?”

“Or maybe Dumbledore and Grindelwald did something to her. An experiment of some sorts.”, Kama considers calmly, “He mentioned that Grindelwad got expelled from his school for doing _questionable experiments_ and that they are, in some way, responsible for her death.”

Newt feels anger bubbling in his stomach at Kama’s proposition. 

“He wouldn’t torture his own sister! Mercy Lewis, he was a _professor_ , if I may remind you!”, Tina snorts. 

Kama only shrugs his shoulders and falls silent. 

Another pause. 

“Can anyone actually imagine them together?”, Nagini asks hesitantly. 

“What? Grindelwald and Dumbledore?”, Tina asks puzzled. 

“Yeah.”

Newt has thought about that last night, when he was lying on the bed in his suitcase, rolling to his other side for maybe the 60th time. 

The Magizoologist had tried to imagine a young Dumbledore and a young Grindelwald – and failed terribly. He didn’t manage to picture his old professor without a beard and Grindelwald actually smiling. 

“I don’t think that it is something I _want_ to imagine”, Kama mutters, sipping on his tea. 

Jacob snorts “Dear Lord, who is still in love with somebody after twenty-eight years of no contact? I mean, they spent like, what, two months together?”

“Well, _Monsieur Grindelwald_ must have made a _great_ deal of impression.”, Kama answers derisively.

Newt presses his lips together.

“This isn’t helping.”, Tina interrupts, “We don’t know what happened and the sentence has already been spoken. Fact is, that while Dumbledore may have worked with Grindelwald once, he has stated that he isn’t _anymore_ and has passively tried to prevent him from reaching his goals. 

“And you think he would have stopped him?”, Jacob asks doubting:” You know, with the whole “eternal bond between them” and him bein’ the person who used him and after twenty-eight years still being in love with him?”

Newt stands abruptly up and walks out. He briefly considers going to his suitcase but decides to go to the pool in the basement instead, where the Kelpie is swimming around. 

There, he takes a few deep breaths and looks then at the clear water before him. A nice turquoise and one can see a dark spot in the right corner. It must be where the Kelpie is resting. 

A quiet rumbling makes him turn around, almost certain he would see eyes similar to a salamder’s-

-but it is Nagini.

She instantly recognizes the look on his face and chuckles: “Expected some-one else, huh?”

He doesn’t reply anything but moves a bit, so the Maledicta can sit next to him. 

“The others are wondering why you just left.”

Newt shrugs and looks down, avoiding eye-contact. 

“I think it’s quite obvious.”

“How do you know, when I am not entirely sure myself?”

The woman next to him smiles, he can feel it: “You don’t know what you feel or you just don’t want to admit it?”

He intertwines his fingers and his left leg twitches a bit. 

“I can’t help but be mad.” He finally blurts out. “I knew that Dumbledore wasn’t telling everything but this is…a lot, and while I am mad at him, I am also mad at myself that I am mad at him, because I think I can understand, and I actually feel sorry for him, because it must _painful_ to love someone like Grindelwald.“, he pauses, “However, there is so much he kept in secret and it is _important_ and it feels like I didn’t know him at all, maybe nobody did except Grindelwald, and perhaps even he didn’t-“, he stops when he sees Nagini’s incredulous look. 

“What?”, he asks, feeling like he once more just put his foot in his mouth. 

“ _You can’t help but feel mad?_ Newt, if I had learned that someone I consider a friend did those things, I would be furious.” She hisses the last word and he is once more reminded of the fact what lurks beneath her skin. He wants to help her, so badly. 

“Feeling betrayed is the most human thing to do. I felt betrayed when Credence walked through the circle of fire. Do you judge me for it or think lesser of me?”

“No, of course not.”, he mumbles. 

“And I still like Credence. And I still wish I could save him.”

“Yes, but he hasn’t done anything bad, hasn’t he?”

“Newt, his obscurus murdered a politician and his step-mother, don’t forget that.”; Nagini says gently.

Newt blinks: “He did not do it on purpose, that was the parasite.”

“And still, he lives with that burden every day.”

He has never seen it that way. Does Dumbledore feel responsible for the murders Grindelwald committed? His regret over Leta’s death had been genuine, Newt was sure about it. 

“I feel manipulated.”, he admits. “I knew there was something missing, but I trusted Dumbledore to truly believe that Grindelwald should be stopped and now…I am not so sure anymore.”

“Why?”, Nagini asks simply.

Surprisingly, Newt needs a moment to think about his answer.

“He is in love with him. I mean, after _twenty-eight years_ of no communication, like Jacob said. Dumbledore knows what he did, how many people he killed! And the blood pact may be a reason for not moving against him but he didn’t do much to get it back either, did he?”

Nagini doesn’t say anything, just listens attentively and he is thankful for that. 

“But...it’s just...I understand being in love with someone. Wanting to protect them. Wanting to stand with them and be with her-“

He blushes and swallows the next words. 

Nagini waits, but when she realizes that he isn’t going to continue, she sighs: “My, Tina and you are two dorks.”

“Pardon?”, he asks, almost sure he had misheard. 

“Don’t you think it is time to tell her the truth?”

Alright, he hadn’t misheard. 

He opens his mouth a few times and closes it again: “I…tried in Paris.”

“And?”

“We got attacked by Matagots.”

Nagini blinks: “Right, what else.”

Newt looks back at the pool, a few ripples now forming at the surface of the water. He is not sure if he should continue talking, he has never been good at it, but it doesn’t feel bad. Nagini is easy to talk to. 

“It’s just, when I imagine Tina suddenly wanting to revolutionize the Wizarding community then…I like to think that I’d try to stop her.”, he mumbles frustrated. 

Nagini laughs at that. It is a bright, comfortable sound. He rarely hears her laugh: “If Tina Goldstein wanted to take over the world, Grindelwald would have to hide in the deepest jungles of South America.”

Despite his sadness, Newt has to smile a bit. 

The picture of Grindelwald hiding between liana in the Amazon Rain-forest, while Tina swishes her wand, is simply too amusing. 

“What do _you_ think about the situation?”, he asks her, genuinely curious. 

She tabs her finger against her chin in thought, before she answers:” I don’t know him. But I think that he is a man who wishes to help. That doesn’t mean though, that one always chooses the right way to do it. Grindelwald’s message is so appealing, because he asserts that the end justifies the means and it is easy to believe in that, when you aren’t at the receiving end of those means.”

The Maledicta looks up at him: “And Dumbledore seemed regretful, didn’t he? Telling that he couldn’t follow Grindelwald’s path of violence? And he has refrained from contact in over two decades.”

He furrows his brow: “Yes, he definitely didn’t seem to be alright with Grindelwald’s ways.”

Naginis’ lips form the hint of a smile and she reminds him strangely of Leta in this moment. 

They sit in comfortable silence for a while and observe the head of the Kelpie, lazily floating around. 

“If you are still unsure, you can ask yourself another question.”, she eventually starts again. “You can ask yourself, if you truly believe that Dumbledore should be imprisoned in Azkaban for his actions.”

“Absolutely not!”, he says immediately and without hesitation. 

Nagini tilts her head. 

“Azkaban is a horrible place and it is guarded by Dementors. Do you know what Dementors are?” She nods to his relief.

Newt has encountered Dementors only once before and he has never found a creature more abhorring. That feeling of sadness, regret and hopelessness…they had often found their way to the battlefields of the Great War. And to imagine, that Dumbledore was surrounded by them all the time…

He swallows. 

“No, I don’t want him in Azkaban.”, he repeats more quietly.

He feels better somehow. Calmer. His mind is sorted and that cloud of anger-well, it’s not gone, but it has become more transparent.

“Do you think you can forgive Credence?”, he asks her. 

She looks at him, her snake-like eyes glittering: “Do you think you can forgive Queenie?”, Nagini returns, and it is the final question.

He opens his mouth to answer but she already continues: “You told me, that you are able to feel sorry for Dumbledore, that loving Grindelwald must _hurt_. Showing this kind of empathy is not something that goes without saying. What did Madame Lestrange say? _You never met a monster you couldn’t love?_ It is a very valuable trait, Newton. Something, you can be proud of.”

With that she rises and smooths over her dress, before she turns around and goes back to the Dinner Room. 

Newt looks after her. 

_Jacob needs to rethink his statement_ , he muses, feeling like smiling for the first time since yesterday.

_Nagini is far wiser than we all combined._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_**8th of June, Newt’s apartment, London** _

 

Great Britain is becoming a darker place without Dumbledore guarding it. 

The Wizard Community seems to slowly split in half. There are those who openly condemn Dumbledore’s past actions and are convinced that his imprisonment is the safer option. Then, there are people that are wondering anxiously who exactly will defeat Grindelwald, if not the legendary wizard himself. 

There have never been more defectors to Grindelwald’s side, now, with Dumbledore behind bars.

The Ministry, of course, is trying to prevent this kind of information becoming public knowledge. They propagandise Dumbledore as a captured ally of Grindelwald’s, a black queen taken down on the big chess board that Europe has become, a massive blow to the dark wizards’ forces. 

But they have slightly miscalculated.

Dumbledore has enjoyed great popularity across the United Kingdom and the Western Continent and the further away, the more upset people are with the government’s hasty actions. 

They think that the Ministry should rather have put Dumbledore under surveillance or locked him up in the Ministry-dungeons, instead of sending him to the worst prison in Europe (and maybe the entire world). 

He is feeding Dougal when he notices the little alarming button lighten up, which signals that someone is pressing the bell in front of his house. With a short, annoyed huff, he climbs out of his case and stumbles to the door, opening it a chink to glance outside.

His brother stands in front of him, dressed in a black coat that indicates his direct arrival from the Ministry. 

“Good afternoon, Newt. May I come in?”

The younger brother blinks a few times in surprise, before he opens the door fully and lets his hair fall over his eyes, as the older one passes him. 

Theseus isn’t necessarily the last person he’d expect to visit him right now, but certainly not the first either. The Ministry is buzzing with establishing new security protocols and especially he, as head-Auror, should be drowning in work right now.  
Besides, he still doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that Theseus tricked Dumbledore into drinking the Serum and has made that very clear during the hearing, as far as he had been able to speak out loud without disturbing the process. 

Theseus sits down at the dinner table and the Niffler promptly darts out from its hiding place to sniffle at his silver bootstraps. 

“Oh, get lost you little pest!”, Newt mumbles and tries to shoo it away with exaggerated hand-gesturing, but the Niffler only fixes him with an unimpressed gaze; black, beady eyes sparkling.

He sighs and picks the little creature up before it can escape and sits down at the table, vis-à-vis from his brother, putting it in his lab. 

“Mind your shiny stuff.”

Theseus smiles but it is tense and his body posture is stiff, as he tabs his fingers on the table, obviously agitated. Newt knows that social protocol demands that he asks what is wrong, but he doesn’t really know how to do that without sounding snappish, so he absently pads the beast’s fur, instead.

Finally, the older Scamander starts: “Grindelwald has been spotted close to the British Border.” 

Newt’s head whips up. That was not what he had expected.  
“What? Where?”

“Near Portrush Harbour, Northern Ireland.”

He bites his lips. That is still far away from Hogwarts or Azkaban. 

“Four Aurors encountered him, only one came back to report.”

He looks down at the dark surface of the table and contemplates whether he should really ask the next question, but does it anyway: “Deserted or…dead?”

His older brother sighs and rubs his forehead: “Two killed, one joined him.”

His grip on the Niffler becomes a little too tight and the little beast fidgets to escape. Immediately he softens his hold and carefully smooths the clean fur down: “Sorry, sorry.”, he mumbles and then stares absently at it.

Those were terrible news, and Grindelwald being so close could mean only a few things. 

“Why?”, Newt asks, trying to sound as innocent as possible. 

His older brother leans back and eyes the little animal in his lap: “Different conclusions. Half of my Department thinks he wants to recruit new people for his cause. Travers, however, is convinced that he is preparing an invasion of Britain, now that Dumble- -he stumbles a bit over the name and clears his throat-, that Dumbledore is gone.”

_Azkaban._

_He is sitting in Azkaban, you mean._

But he doesn’t say it, though. Theseus is probably thinking it as well.  
Instead he focuses his thoughts at what his brother just said. 

The first notion actually sounds quite reasonable, if it weren’t for the fact that Grindelwald doesn’t need to do much, right now, that people were joining him in his quest. Fear is a powerful catalyser.

He thinks about Travers’ statement and deplores it as utterly ridiculous. It sounds like a paranoid idea for a conspiracy theory against the British Ministry and Grindelwald has never attacked a whole country in a fight before. Cities, yes, like Paris and New York, but not an entire nation; and while Newt firmly believes, that Grindelwald will try it at one point in the future, he wouldn’t start with Great Britain of all European countries (for multiple reasons, the most innocent one being the far distance alone).

“Which one do you think is more accurate?”, he asks regardless, hoping to get some intel. 

Theseus smiles bitterly: “I don’t think that one of them is the main reason, and neither do you.”  
Hearing neither a confirmation, nor denial, he continues: “President Picquery believes that Grindelwald might try to break into Azkaban.”

Not surprising. 

“And you?”

“I think that there is a possibility that she is right.”

“I am surprised,”, Newt states flatly, ”I thought Dumbledore made it very clear that Grindelwald previously sought an assassin to finish the job for him.”

Theseus takes one of the cups left on the table and turns it in his hands, deep in thought, and Newt finally looks up a bit to see the conflicted gaze on his brother’s face.

“It is the perfect opportunity for Grindelwald, isn’t it? To drag Dumbledore to his side.”

“How is he going to do that?”

“Going to Azkaban and convince him that the Ministry is even worse than he is.”

“You say it like you can just walk into it. Don’t forget that _no-one_ has ever escaped Azkaban before.”

Theseus puts the cup down and interlocks his fingers. They stay in silence for a moment. 

“It was awful.”; Theseus is, once more, the first one to speak.

“What _exactly_?”; Newt says though he already knows it. 

“The trial. This deliberate…bullying.”

“So, you agree now?”, Newt says sharply, finally looking up to meet his brother’s gaze: “That giving someone a substance that _forces_ them to tell _everything_ is downright immoral? That humiliating him in front of the entire International congress and sending him directly to _Azkaban_ , along with Great Britain’s _worst_ criminals, might have not been the best idea?”

His brother makes a frustrated noise: “Do you think I _want_ him gone? Merlin, I knew he was hiding something but I thought it was the possible fact that he once worked with him, not that he is _bloody in love_ with him! And I couldn’t care less if Grindelwald is a man or a woman.”

“You knew that there was more.”

“Of course, I knew. You assumed it, too, Newton, and don’t pretend you weren’t frustrated that Dumbledore didn’t tell you anything. That he would rather randomly send you to retrieve one of your creatures and then you coincidentally run into Grindelwald. 

That is, however discouragingly, true. 

“Of course, I was, but I _trusted_ him.”

“And why should I? Frankly, I _don’t know_ Dumbledore, I haven’t spoken with him since my graduation, until it came out that Grindelwald infiltrated MACUSA. He was a brilliant teacher, but have you never wondered, why someone as ingenious as him would be satisfied with staying at Hogwarts? He never left that school, no family, no past. It was almost like he was hiding there.”, Theseus’ breath is going faster now. “Why would I trust someone who sends my brother around on secret missions but refuses to work with the government? I would have helped him, I am _trained_ for that. He didn’t have to send _you_.”

Newt wants to interrupt, but his brother already continues: 

“Grindelwald infiltrated the American Congress and no-one, not even _Picquery_ , noticed that he was lurking right beneath our noses. I _met_ Percival Graves, Newt, and I met Grindelwald, disguised as Graves. I talked to him, thought he was a bit too convinced of himself and immediately forgot about him as soon as I left.”

“There was no way you could have known-“

“And then Grindelwald is revealed. By you, my little brother, who appears in the exact same spot. You become the only person to ever get a hold on him and along with that, the new target of a murdering sociopath. And during his interrogation at MACUSA, which was fruitless by the way, we learn that he didn’t only impersonate Percival Graves, but several officials in Germany and Austria. Then he convinces three MACUSA-workers to join his side and escapes after six months, disguised, _again_ , as someone else. I mean, how long until he comes to England? To your apartment? Maybe looking like me this time? To kill you for capturing him? Or how long until he convinces my colleagues to follow him, like he convinced Queenie Goldstein?”

Theseus’ lips have a bitter edge now. 

“And what did Dumbledore do? _Nothing_. Nothing, but sending you, _once more_ , right back into his arms.”

“Technically, I went there for Tina. And Credence-“

“Who Grindelwald wants to use to kill Dumbledore.”

“You didn’t know that until the trial, Theseus.”

“And you did?”

“Yes, in fact I did.”

Theseus snorts and ignores his answer: “Suddenly, Travers comes up with supposed evidence, stolen from Grindelwald’s mind during his interrogation, and apparently, including the most powerful wizard in Great Britain. We go to Hogwarts and Travers lets it appear in front of all of us. And you know what it is? Grindelwald and Dumbledore, together, latter having the same emotion in his eyes I see every time we capture one of Grindelwald’s fanatics.”

Newt is almost certain that it has been something else but doesn’t interrupt anymore.

“And while Travers might be blinded sometimes, I could interpret the look on the present Dumbledore’s face and it wasn’t shame, it was _melancholy_.” 

Theseus lets out a sarcastic huff: “ _Closer than brothers_. He even told us and I was standing there like an idiot, contemplating whether that means if Dumbledore had once been on his side or not. Because I get it, Newt, that it isn’t something anyone would like to admit.

He was at Hogwarts for the last twenty years and I was wondering _when_ he could have been with Grindelwald, if _not now!_ I mean, the sheer thought that Grindelwald started this whole recruiting with _sixteen_? Never crossed my mind. And Dumbledore tells us that he _still_ refuses to fight him, repeating over and over “ _I cannot”_ without ever giving a reason why. 

Theseus’ shoulders slump a bit and he inhales deeply: “And finally, the vial that you stole from Grindelwald. Never mentioned once by Dumbledore, but very convenient for Grindelwald, don’t you think? The only wizard who could defeat him in a duel, chained to him by a vow that prevents them from harming each other?”

His older brother looks almost a little desperate now: “That were entirely too many coincidences at the same time and I-“, he trails off, “I mean, who can you trust anymore? When Grindelwald is _everywhere_? Even in Hogwarts?”

Newt looks at his brother, his eyes widened. Theseus had _never_ shown this kind of reaction with him present. Never, that he was scared of something. He had seen him laugh, celebrate and mourn. But never afraid: he had always played the role of big, hugging, overprotective brother, especially when they were young. He’d never thought of it that Theseus might be becoming just as paranoid as everyone. Not his Head-Auror sibling: “But that doesn’t mean you can just go around and poison people.”, he blurts out and can see, because of the look on his brother’s face, that he has once again said something insensitive without meaning to. 

You’re angry at me!”, Theseus states and his right eyebrow twitches. 

Newt sighs and leans back, listening to his inner feelings: “I am not- I mean, yes, I am, but I am angry at Dumbledore too and _furious_ at the entire Ministry. You cannot just _subjugate_ someone’s will; it would make us not better than Grindelwald and there is, after all, a reason the Imperius-curse has been forbidden.” He trails off and looks down. Surprised, he realizes that the Niffler has escaped during their conversation and he hasn’t noticed at all. He shakes his head. This isn’t important now: “But, you were right…somehow…you assumed that they once worked together and they _did_.”

“But not anymore.”, Theseus says flatly. 

“Not anymore.”, he repeats, more gently.

For the first time today, he notices how much thinner his older sibling has become. His cheeks are hollow and his suit doesn’t fit as neatly as usually. His skin is pale and his hair needs a cut. 

The older brother looks absently at the cups in front of them, like it could hold all the answer to his questions. 

“Dumbledore tried to warn me, you know? To not engage in Grindelwald’s rally at Paris. But Travers gave the order and I went anyway, like a good little soldier, and then Leta-“

His voice breaks and he inhales sharply. Newt looks awkwardly down again and sees out of the corner of his eye that Theseus has to blink fiercely.

“After I reached the room those Aurors had dragged him to, I could hear them talking. You see, the Serum hadn’t worn off, yet, and-“, he swallows and before he continues, voice strangely empty, “they behaved absolutely disgusting.” 

Newt can feel his heart drop into his gut. He has an idea what Theseus is going to tell him next. 

“They asked him something very…inappropriate. I immediately stopped it, of course. Later, when I interrogated them about it, they told me what kind of questions they had already inflicted on him before. It was absolutely disgraceful, for example, what kind of obscene things he already did to Grindelwald-“

“That is outrageous.”, Newt hisses. 

Theseus nods, head hanging: “I think one of them was from Bulgaria and lost a close relative to Grindelwald.”

“That doesn’t make it better!”

“I agree. I suspended them and reported it to their representative Ministry.”

They sit in silence again. 

“Theseus, why are you here?”; Newt asks, as friendly as possible. In the way he sometimes speaks to his creatures when they are acting troubled. 

His brother knows him clearly too well to _not_ catch on to it, but he answers anyways: “Dumbledore is not in Azkaban.”

And for the third time, today, Theseus manages to completely throw him off the tracks: “Pardon?”

“Travers wanted him there, obviously, but Picquery demanded a transfer to another, unknown location.”

“Why?”

“The Madam President is not done yet.”, Theseus grimaces. 

“What are you im-“. Then it hits him: ”They don’t know where the vial is.”

His brother nods: “She asked him once, when the Serum was still active, but he only told her: _In a place where you’ll never find it, no matter how much you wish for it_. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

Newt leans back against his chair, his thoughts circling around the strange answer. It definitely sounds like something Dumbledore would say. 

“How did she manage to convince everyone to keep him out of there?”

“Most people don’t know about it and think he’s already been transferred to Azkaban. It is top-secret.”, Theseus explains. “Like I said, she believes that Grindelwald might try to break in, despite its security, and she wanted Dumbledore in a place that no-one knows of, except people she considers trustworthy. Not even I have an idea.”, he adds a little frustrated. “She wants to keep the number of people aware of the location as small as possible, especially after Graves, and I dare say that it works. Grindelwald should have no idea, in case he is really looking for Dumbledore.”

Newt’s hands tighten around his armrests. While he is glad that Dumbledore is not in Azkaban, whatever Picquery has planned might be equally bad or maybe even worse. She firmly believes that Dumbledore is an accomplice of Grindelwald and if he has learned one thing about her in the past few days, then it is that she won’t let anything stop her from bringing down the biggest threat to the Statute of Secrecy. 

Theseus grabs his coat and stands up, quite suddenly. 

“They are all terribly paranoid about it, but ironically enough, they’ve apparently written it down, which is quite dangerous, don’t you think?” He shakes his head: “Not that I am actually supposed to know about that, of course, but Travers likes to brag.”

He walks towards the door.

“Theseus!” 

His brother comes to a halt, looking over his shoulder. 

Newt follows him quickly before he comes to halt before him. Not knowing what to do next, he shuffles on his feet and raises his arms. He ends up making another step towards him and patting him awkwardly on the back: “You can always come over, you know that, right?”

Theseus blinks, but then gives him his first, genuine smile today and it carries a bit of the usual warmth. 

His brother leaves through the door and Newt sees him Disapparate. Newt waits a few minutes to make sure that his brother has truly left and that there are no more observers, before he runs down the stairs, into the basement, yelling: “JACOB!”

Jacob, who had been napping on the couch, flinches and almost falls to the ground: “Wha-What? We bein’ attacked again?”

“No, no, no. We need to do something.”

His friend is immediately fully awake and looks excited at him: “Like in getting a creature?”

Newt only nods while he hastily packs some things. 

“What is it? Like a bird? Or that Occamy-thing?”

“The species is called Acromantula and, uh, not exactly legal in England.”

That doesn’t seem to bother the baker much: “Sounds awesome. Is it a dragon?”

Newt packs his case and his coat flies to him with a quick flick of his wand: “Not quite.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_**11th of June, Ministry of Magic, London** _

 

The eleventh of June, 1927, will from now on be known as the day when a gigantic spider, large as a young elephant, appeared out of nowhere to destroy Fawley’s office.  
Some will say, that it is Dumbledore’s wrath, manifested in that dark creature and sent by him from Azkaban to wreak Havoc in the Ministry. Others are convinced that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is secretly breeding a new super-mutant species that will be used in the coming fight against Grindelwald and one of those beasts escaped.

However, no-one sees Theseus Scamander, dressed uncharacteristically in a dark blue coat, enter and exit the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, with a piece of paper disappearing in his brown suitcase.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_**Unknown date, Somewhere at the English Coast, Great Britain** _

 

_The ocean was breaking fiercely against the shore of the English coast. The air around him carried the strong smell of moist, salt and earth. It was unique, nowhere to find near the Austrian Alps and it threw him back, let him visit old memories he’d rather forget._

_The house they’d occupied, was located right at the end of the cliff line. A small, dirty thing, but it would serve its purpose for the coming time. At least the view was acceptable._

_He was standing in front of the window in the small living room, that allowed him to stare down at the wild masses beneath him and he could observe the waves crashing against the dark stone._

_His hands were folded behind his back, the Elderwand securely in his right hand and his black coat wallowing slightly because of the wind, that managed to sneak in through the small cracks in the wall._

_An aura of majesty, aloofness and superiority surrounded him._

_Gellert closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the familiar scent already obtrusively stuck in his nose, picture of the untamed billows dancing behind his eyelids._

_It reminded him so much of youthful experiences, filled with laughter and adventure. An excursion to the shore nearest to Gordric’s Hollow, because he had never seen the Atlantic before. The Baltic sea, yes, and the Mediterranean one, but never the mighty waters that separated the Continent from the British Isles and the far Americas._

_On that day, he had seen Albus genuinely laugh for the first time, free of any responsibility, of burden and guilt; his flamboyant hair seemingly burning in the afternoon sun and eyes shining as blue as the ocean before them._

_The dark wizard opened his eyes again.  
Luckily, the Legilimens was not with him; she wouldn't have shut up about him being melancholic. _

_There was no sun now. The sky was grey and light, drizzling rain fell from the clouds._

_An ironic huff left his lips._

_Typical English weather._

_He hadn’t set a foot on British ground in almost twenty-eight years before the trial. Always staying far away from any form of possible regret or out of respect - he refused to call it fear._

_Of course, he had always planned on returning one day, however, logical thinking and strategy had not permitted it, but now-_

_Now the board had completely changed, while the players had stayed the same._

_Once more, he silently blessed his skills of prediction. Whereas he had cursed them again and again as an adolescent, he had learned to control it to an extend with his growing years and used them to his advantage. Especially with his skull, that had unfortunately been destroyed by that foolish Lestrange girl._

_He shook his head slightly._

_But recently, his dreams had shown him his equal, chained to that chair in the Ministry’s court room, accused of crimes he had not committed, an alliance with him that was non-existent._

_The Austrian unconsciously grinds his teeth._

_Diese unwissenden, unfähigen Idioten! If Albus had been with him during all this time, he would have had won already._

_A slight groaning of wood caught his attention. He carefully listened for footsteps, but nobody entered and his impatience started to increase._

_His Acolytes should have been back by now. Normally, it wasn’t something that would bother him, as long as the job was done accurately and they were still on time._

_A slight hiss echoed in the room and he had to stop his fingers from tapping twitchily. He had always despised people that couldn’t show the endurance that was necessary, the foresight that was required when you wanted to build something new, something better and everlasting from the ground._

_But he had already waited for_ so long. _Over two decades he had observed quietly, made his presence in the world known by committing one crime after the other, every paper reporting about it, so that the news must have reached even that isolated school in the Scottish Highlands, always emphasising that it was for their dream_ , for the Greater Good…

_Yet, he had never dared to come closer…_

_It was of no use. He was above something like impatience. He could do something useful with the time he had to wait, like throwing a glance at a possible future._

_His eyes fell closed once more, concentrated, and he let the pictures of different outcomes wash over him._

_**All three Hollows, united in his hands…** _

_**That annoyance Scamander in a dark alley, looking nervously around, carrying something of uttermost importance…** _

_**A white, marble grave, the Elderwand stolen…** _

_**The vial, destroyed, an unbearable pain roaring in his chest, his anger seething and all-destroying…** _

_**A phoenix rising from the ashes, red and golden, flying around him…** _

_“Maître!”, the voice of Vinda Rosier, his first lieutenant, his most loyal follower, broke through his meditative state._

_Finally!_

_An exhale, a bit too sharp to pass as casual, escaped his lips, but he didn’t move. He wanted to represent a picture of sedateness and dispassionateness._

_“There…has been a problem.”, she said and her French accent seemed a bit more prominent than usual._

_That made him turn after all: “A problem?”, he asked, dangerously quiet and he was sure, that he must look frightening like this; half hidden in the shadows, mis-matched eyes glowing mysteriously._

_Next to his first lieutenant stood one of his American agents, an unimportant, plain man, unworthy of his attention, while Albus was still out there-_

_The spy was shaking terribly._

_Gellert waited for an explanation but it didn’t come._

_“If there is something I hate more than incompetence, it is cowardice”, he whispered softly, while walking slowly towards the flinching man._

_He was making a weird sound that could be almost interpreted as begging. Pathetic._

_“What happened?”, Gellert asked again, running out of patience._

_“He is not in Azkaban.”, the little man stammered, almost inaudible.  
“He never arrived at the prison.”_

_His nostrils flared. Magic was crackling in the atmosphere around them and the air seemed to rapidly get thicker and thicker._

“Where _is he then?_ ”

_“We don’t know.”, that vermin dared to answer, not looking at him, now positively trembling with fear._

_The darkest wizard of their age blinked, once, twice, as he felt the Elderwand chanting in his right hand, begging him to end this miserable life in front of him._

_“You lost him?”, he repeated, quietly, steady, his magic slowly surrounding that impertinence before him._

_“The Aurors switched carriages multiple times. They didn’t want to make any more mistakes after your spectacular escape, my Lord, so they pulled every string and in the haste, I lost sight of the real one and-_

_A green flash illuminated the room and a body fell to the ground._

_Year-long training and experience prevented his first Lieutenant from showing any kind of reaction, but he could practically reek the agitation radiating from her._

_**“Find him!"** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it for now!
> 
> It doesn't have as much Grindelwald or Dumbledore as some of you may have expected, but I hope you liked Newt's POV nonetheless. I felt that it was necessary, and Theseus' appearance as well. Dumbledore and Grindelwald will get more story-time in the next chapters (I planned the entire thing now).
> 
> To those of you who have been hoping for a more sassy, boss-ass queen appearance of Grindelwald: Don't worry, he'll get it. Nothing but the most dramatic moments for the darkest wizard of his age.


	3. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo, I am back with the third chapter!
> 
> It took me a little longer this time, because I had to take a step back from this fandom. A lot of hate was and is still going around since that Twitter-war started and I got sad whenever I saw something related to it.  
> But I deleted Tumblr, avoided Instagram and found my inspiration again.
> 
> Just a quick info for this chapter, in case someone doesn't remember: Grimmson was introduced as a hunter for creatures in COG, employed by the Ministry to kill Credence when Newt refused to. But he changed allegiances and became a follower of Grindelwald.
> 
> Finally, I'd like to thank you again for your comments. This story has now more than 100 and honestly, I never expected that when I posted the first chapter – thank you so, so much.

_**1st of June, after the trial, Ministry-dungeons, Ministry of Magic** _

_He was being dragged through the corridors. Fourteen Aurors were his escort, six more than the amount of guards that had been sent with Gellert during his transport. Four of them were keeping him constantly subdued; Picquery was obviously not taking risks anymore._

_The world around him was a blur, stone walls flickering in front of his eyes and the lights of the candles were too bright, despite them being in the vault area of the Ministry._

_The screams of the wizards and witches in the courtroom were still roaring in his ears and he could feel his blood burning with the Serum, that was still very much active._

_He was so sorry. Sorry for having betrayed so many secrets, Gellert had entrusted him once with. Sorry for not acting, but imprisoning himself in his castle instead. Sorry, because he had seen the looks of people he deeply admired - their trust slowly fading._

_Suddenly, six hands pushed him and he was falling towards the floor. He could feel the hard surface against his right cheek and there were fourteen wands pointed at him. Albus figured, that this chamber was his final destination before his one-way trip to Azkaban would start._

_“Fitting position for someone like you”, one of them said, a mocking smirk curled around his lips._

_“Yeah, I wonder if he often rendered his services to the Dark Lord like this.”, another laughed._

_Albus blinked and it took far too long until he understood the vulgar meaning behind it. His usually fast-working brain still felt like it was drowning in cotton._

_“He is still enchanted, let’s ask him.”_

_And so, they did._

_“How long did it take you two before you slept with each other?”_

_“Five days.”_

_A disgusted noise._

_“What was Grindelwald like in bed?”_

_“Fantastic.”, he mumbled defeated. There was no escaping anymore and the hearing had completely drained him._

_“Did you blow him?”_

_“I did.”, Albus said, burying his face into the floor, hoping, that it would dampen his voice and make his answer not understandable. He had never felt more mortified in his life._

_One of them grunted: “That is a picture, I definitely didn’t need in my head._

_“Suit yourself!”, a deep, accented voice threw in._

_If his brain would be working normally, he’d have noticed that not everything was as it seemed._  
If his brain would be working normally, he’d have noticed that not everyone was asking those cruel questions; that a German witch had turned her face towards the wall, while a French wizard was looking at the floor, both uncomfortable and maybe even a little bit guilty. He’d have noticed that a very young, British Auror was in fact one of his former students and shuffling from one foot to the other; on one hand, wanting to help, on the other, afraid of losing his position for chiding superiors.  
Or he’d have noticed an American official, lurking suspiciously in the dark. 

_But he didn’t. They were all morphing into the same faces of contorted creatures._

_“Now, the most important question.”, the woman from before spoke up again, crouching down in front of him. He didn’t look at her, so she took his chin into her hand and forced his tired gaze towards her: “Did you top or bottom?”_

_“Oh, that’s a brilliant one”, her colleague laughed_

_He opened his mouth to answer, but before the words could tumble out, he heard new, enraged shouts. Albus thought that he could recognize Theseus’ voice, yelling something, and there were suddenly too many people around him, holding him down and they were all somehow the same face. It was crowding and there was not enough space for him and breathing was becoming very hard._

_The last time he had felt like this had been at Ariana’s funeral._

_And he was doing something similar, now, wasn’t he? Guiding Gellert towards the gallows? Every word representing another pull._

_Distantly, he realized that someone was speaking to him._

_He blinked a few times, before Travers’ ugly visage came into vision. His mouth was moving and Albus’ mind started concentrating again._

_“-will be transferred shortly. You will be unconscious for the process. No mistakes this time.”_

_One could practically taste his smugness: “Any last words without bars in front of you, Dumbledore?”_

_He looked up at him, and for the first time today, he felt pure hatred burning in his veins: Seething, hot and energetic._

_After twenty-eight years, he let fury, righteousness and arrogance take the lead once more. The things that had made him truly powerful, back then._

_And this time, he had nothing to lose._

_He could make out Picquery standing next to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, her gaze contemplating rather than derisive, not like the lead-interrogator’s._

_No, he wouldn’t waste his last words on someone like Travers._

_He lifted the right edge of his lips and whispered with a cold calmness: “Will we die, just a little?”_

_Picquery’s olive skin tuned pale in anger and he could imagine Gellert’s bright laughter echoing in his mind._

_A spell hit him right in the back and the darkness was coming._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**12th of June, 18:50, A dark alley near the Restaurant “Where the goblins laugh”, Magical London** _

Newt is nervously shuffling his feet. Every thirty seconds he can’t resist but stare at his pocket-watch, hoping the hand would finally strike seven p.m. 

Still ten minutes left. 

He sighs and puts it back before glancing around quickly, trying not to look too suspicious. 

Although it is already summer in London, the weather is rather dark and foggy, much like when Newt met with Dumbledore earlier this year to discuss Credence. That can serve to his advantage or disadvantage: it well be hard to recognize him but on the other hand, the Magizoologist will have difficulties to detect others as well. 

He is currently standing in a dark back-alley and has done so for the past thirty minutes. No people are walking through here due to the shady reputation of this part of Magical London. 

His fingers twitch and Newt has to restrain himself from taking the ominous piece of paper out of his suitcase. A special note he had received just this morning, after Jacob and he had successfully broken into the Ministry of Magic yesterday evening. 

 

_Scamander,_

_We received intelligence, that you recently came into possession of information that holds great value. Wait alone in the alley next to the restaurant “Where the Goblins Laugh” tomorrow at 19:00, and bring it with you. Otherwise, the younger Miss Goldstein will be the one bearing the consequences.  
I don’t need to remind you that calling the authorities will lead to a similar outcome._

_-G.G._

 

There had been no doubt from which party that letter was, especially with the infamous sign, a triangle, a circle and a line, all intervened, at the back of the letter. 

A grey, innocent-looking owl had delivered the note and Newt had read it out loud to Jacob and Tina, who then immediately started to argue about how they should proceed.  
To his immense surprise, Tina was the one who didn’t want to include MACUSA or the Ministry, while Jacob was convinced that they should get help immediately: 

“We need to call the police. Is there some sort of wizard-police?”

“The closest thing would be the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and we are most certainly _not_ bringing the British Ministry into this.”

“But this is about _Queenie!_ ”

“Exactly, and we’ve seen how far they’d go to stop Grindelwald. I won’t risk her life. The letter said that calling somebody would have fatal consequences. We are going to this on our own!”

He had to intervene rather quickly and together, the three of them had found some sort of middle ground. They would not mention the letter to anyone, yet, but prepare a well-thought strategy with enough security precautions. It had been difficult, especially because of the immense time-pressure, but they had managed to come up with a vague plan in the afternoon, that satisfied even Jacob (more or less). The problem is that none of them really know what’s expecting them. The G.G. indicates that Grindelwald himself has written the letter and will come personally, probably with a few of his followers. 

Though it would be a huge risk for him to take. 

Newt glances again at his watch: 18:57. 

Tina is currently securing the area around them with spells to make sure that no-one could come or leave unnoticed and will come later, while Jacob is stationed further away, in case they need back-up after all. He can get Kama or Nagini, if it is really necessary. 

Both of them hadn’t been too happy with letting him go the meeting alone (recent attempts of Grindelwald trying to end his life repeatedly still fresh in their minds), but the note had explicitly mentioned the Magizoologist, so Newt had insisted on it. 

His thoughts return to wondering how Grindelwald will arrive. Honestly, the most-wanted man in Britain cannot just…walk by, right? Not with Aurors from every country hot on his tail. 

Maybe in disguise? 

Newt taps his fingers on the handle of the suitcase and waits anxiously. How do Grindelwald and his followers even know that Jacob and he had stolen the document? Of course, the dark wizard most certainly has spies in the British Ministry but even the highest-ranking officials don’t know that the Acromantula has only served as a distraction, so Newt could (looking like Theseus once more) enter while everyone was occupied. Merlin’s beard, he hadn’t even taken the _real_ document, but merely made an identical copy of it and put the original right back where it had been before, so no-one would notice. 

Also, they had stolen it _yesterday_ evening! How could Grindelwald know of it _so soon_?

It is beyond frustrating and makes him understand Theseus’ paranoia a bit better. 

When he hears the bells of a distant church chime, two figures appear a few feet away from him. Newt has to squint his eyes to make out their faces. As soon as they come closer, however, the Magizoologist recognizes the first one and he instantly feels hot fury curling in his veins. 

It isn’t _Grindelwald_ coning closer with wide steps and a mocking smile on his cruel face. No, it’s-

“Grimmson!”, Newt exclaims snarling, glaring daggers at the bounty hunter in front of him. 

Of course. 

_Of course!_

G.G: not for Gellert Grindelwald, but _Gunnar Grimmson_. The man who had been sent by the Ministry to kill Credence, when Newt had refused to go after him that time when he had demanded that his travel ban should be lifted at his hearing. The man who had come smiling out of the shadows and referred to Credence as an “it”. An obnoxious hunter who killed magical creatures for money, a merciless mercenary.

Newt grinds his teeth. 

And apparently one of Grindelwald’s newest followers. 

He protectively puts his suitcase behind him and struggles to avert his gaze and turn it to the second person instead. 

Next to Grimmson, at wand-point, is _Queenie_. 

He inhales harshly. 

The witch doesn’t look too bad. She is wearing a pink coat and her blonde curls are a bit ruffled. Only the dark dress seems a bit out of character for her, but then again, he has never seen one of Grindelwald’s followers wearing anything else. 

Tina’s sister looks around with big, innocent eyes, as if she is not quite sure how she ended up here and occasionally throws a very offended look at Grimmson. 

As soon as she sees the Magizoologist however, her expression becomes happy: “Newt!”, she exclaims. 

“Queenie!”, he answers and makes a few hurried steps towards her but is stopped by Grimmson’s wand. 

“Oh no, Scamander. You stay where you are!”

He angrily moves back and looks around: “Where is Grindelwald?”, he snaps. 

The bounty hunter laughs amused at that: “You didn’t really think he’d come himself? He doesn’t really like you, Scamander. Don’t tell me, you haven’t noticed?”

“No, it is rather obvious.”, he mutters and lowers his gaze, memories of the two times he had met Grindelwald and ended-up as favourite target in both of them flashing behind his eye-lids. 

It would make sense for Grindelwald to send Grimmson, he supposes. The Ministry still believes that the older wizard works for them. They don’t know that he has obviously switched sides, so in case their little meeting will be spotted, he can just pretend to act on orders of the Ministry. Especially with Queenie, a known traitor, as his prisoner. 

“If it comforts you, I can tell you that the Dark Lord is visiting another nuisance, even more irritating than you are.”, Grimmson smirks. 

Newt glares at him but turns his gaze eventually at the second Goldstein sister: “Are you alright, Queenie? Did they hurt you?”

“Oh, no, no, I am alright, Honey. Mr. Grimmson” – she glares meaningful at the wizard behind her- “could be a little bit more polite, but no harm done.”

Newt loudly exhales in relief. That was good to hear. 

“Release her!”

Grimmson’s expression becomes incredibly bored: “Do you have what we want?”

“You weren’t very specific in your note. What is it you want?”, Newt says, trying to sound innocent. 

“Don’t pretend to be stupid, Scamander. The Dark Lord knows that you have extracted a document with Dumbledore’s location from the British Ministry.”

Newt carefully arranges his facial expression into a mask of impassiveness. 

“How could he possibly know that?”

Grimmson’s smirk turns smug: “A man like Grindelwald has his ways.”

The Magizoologist has to restrain himself from fidgeting again and mentally braces himself for what he is going to say next. He glances quickly at Queenie, who doesn’t meet his eyes, and subtly raises his own wand.

“I have retrieved it, yes, but I don’t have it with me.”

He points his wand at Grimmson, fully expecting an attack and ready to defend Queenie but surprisingly, the mercenary does no such thing but only furrows his brows: ”Yeah, he already suspected that.”

Newt refuses to let them see his confusion and keeps his wand in fighting-position. A new, anxious feeling is slowly settling in his gut. Something is wrong here. 

“So, you’ve hidden the document, I presume?”, Grimmson continues amicably. 

_Queenie, Tina should be coming soon_ , Newt thinks very loudly and the blonde Goldstein sister winces slightly, probably because of the volume, but doesn’t do anything suspicious when Grimmson throws a quick glance at her. 

“I did and don’t even try to do anything about it: Enchanting or torturing me would be useless. The information has been obliviated from my mind, as well as the location of the document.”, he says determinedly. 

Queenie’s mouth forms a surprised _oh_ : “Teenie’s idea?”

Newt nods, almost a bit ashamed. Tina had come up with that idea, but only partly because of possible enchantments. The main reason had been Queenie herself, so that she couldn’t find it in Newt’s mind, in case she was looking for it. They had deemed it safer. She had gone with Grindelwald in Paris after all. 

Grimmson seemed annoyed by his answer. 

“I hope you know what this means for Miss Goldstein, here.” 

“Harm a hair on her head and you’re going to have to deal with a Zouwu.”, Newt threatens. Grimmson is a skilled hunter but even he will have problems dealing with the fully-grown catlike creature. Especially since it despises captivity and jailors. 

The bounty hunter actually seems tempted for a second but doesn’t risk it: “So, what’s your plan, Scamander? You’ve retrieved the information _illegally_ from the Ministry which means you can’t speak to any officials.”

_How in Morgana’s name does he know that?_ , Newt mentally asks himself again

“What are you going to do? Retrieve Dumbledore on your own?”

He stares at Grimmson, determination filling his eyes: “I am not alone.”

The older wizard gives him an unpleasant, downright mocking smile: “Ah yes, the dubious Mr. Kama, whose loyalties are slightly controversial when it comes to Dumbledore. And the Muggle, who couldn’t use magic if his pants were on fire.”

He smirks, while Queenie’s lips turn down at the almost-mention of Jacob. 

“And of course, that cursed beast of a woman. That _underbeing_ who has never held a wand before.”

Newt’s blood is boiling and he sees Queenie’s indignant expression out of the corner of his eye. 

He truly despises Grimmson. That man is the embodiment of everything Newt considers _wrong_. 

“That leaves you, the American Auror and those little creatures.” He looks at the suitcase with a hint of greed in his eyes and Newt demonstratively steps in front of it. 

He can practically feel his ratio slowly abandoning him: “If you come one step closer to them, Grimmson, I will hex you back to whatever dirty alley you crept out from.”, he threatens darkly and Queenie’s eyes widen at his aggressive tone. She has never heard him like this before. 

“Relax, Scamander!”, the mercenary says lazily and Newt takes a few deep breaths. He won’t let himself be provoked by that man. 

Feeling calmer, the Magizoologist narrows his eyes and tries to catch Queenie’s gaze, who is still looking at the ground. 

Something is definitely wrong. 

They are getting nowhere with this. It feels like Dumbledore’s trial, somehow staged, and he wishes that Tina would hurry and come. She knows her sister way better than he does. 

“Let’s assume you and Goldstein, the other one, actually manage to free that idiot. What are you going to do afterwards?”, his train of thoughts get interrupted by the awful voice of that creature-hunting monster. “You can’t bring him to Great Britain or France. He has been labelled a dangerous ally of the Master, after all.” 

That is, to Newt’s immense frustration, true. However.

“There is certainly no way I am telling _Grindelwald_ where Dumbledore is.”, he says determinedly. 

“Why not?”, Queenie shakily blurts out and Newt looks at her, not able to hide the expression of surprise on his face, but Grimmson already presses his wand against her back in warning and she falls silent again, eyeing the wooden stick in the wizard’s hand. 

Newt comes a little bit closer, but when nothing happens, he answers her question anyways: “Because he is trying to kill him.”

Queenie glances at him for a split second, but Grimmson already continues: “What would you have done if the Dark Lord had come in my stead? Would you have refused him too?”

Newt clenches his other fist. The original plan had been much simpler but it had required Grindelwald _himself_ for it. 

“Well, if Grindelwald wants it so badly, he can come in person.”, he answers, almost defiant. 

Grimmson barks out a loud laughter: “You have balls, Scamander. I will admit that.”

They stay silent for a while, wands raised while the seconds tick away. His gaze switches between Grimmson and Queenie, who is still not looking at him. 

And suddenly, Newt knows what has been bothering him since the very beginning. 

“You are _stalling_!”

“What?”

“You are wasting time. You ask questions with no purpose and try to lead me around in circles.” He glances at Queenie, who now has finally raised her gaze: “Grimmson isn’t really threatening you, isn’t he, Queenie?”

The obviously displayed sheepishness on her face is all he needs. 

His makes a frustrated noise: “Queenie! Tina and Jacob are _out of their minds_ because they think your _life_ is in danger!”

If possible, she looks even more embarrassed and her cheeks’ colour turns deeply red. The witch opens her mouth but they suddenly hear footsteps, clearly running towards them, and Newt turns around. He doesn’t see a lot but he knows that it must be Tina. 

Grimmson growls: “You are really bad at following simple orders, aren’t you, Scamander? I wrote _alone_.” 

“Never been my strength.”, Newt responses and fires the first spell, _stupefy_ , at Grimmson. The bounty hunter avoids it but before the Magizoologist can fire the next one, Queenie blocks his way, wand raised. 

“Sorry, Newt, but I really can’t let you go right now.”, she says apologetic and he realizes how different she seems from before. Queenie had avoided eye-contact almost the entire time (maybe because she had been scared that he could read it in her gaze), made wide eyes, seeming innocent like she did when he had met her for the first time in New York, but now there is something different burning in her eyes. She stands upright, chin proudly lifted and the hand holding her wand is completely still. 

_Confident_

_She practically radiates confidence_

“Mr. Grimmson, that would be my sister.”, she says clearly and Grimmson disappears in the fog, most likely looking for Tina. Newt curses. The Legilimens must have been reading his thoughts the entire time. She has clearly gotten better at it, he hadn’t noticed. 

“You know that I don’t like it when you read my mind, Queenie.”

She only stares at him defiantly: “It is not a curse, but a gift and I am allowed to use it.”

He hears some distant shouts and different colours illuminate the fog a few feet away from them. Grimmson must have found Tina. Or, more likely, reversed. 

Newt hisses angrily: “They threatened us with harming _you_. How can you just ignore that?”

Queenie smiles sadly: “You’d never give Mister Grindelwald the location freely, so two of us are breaking into your brother’s old apartment right now.” 

He almost curses. He doesn’t remember, of course, but his brother’s old apartment? He had shared that living place with Leta before and had moved after she had died. But it still belongs to him and stands empty. 

“Queenie, he is trying to _murder Dumbledore_ -“

But she silences him by giving him a very gentle, almost _patronizing_ look: “Newt, what kind of murderer wears the symbol of his love for twenty-eight years in the spot right over his heart?”

He gets so distracted by that question, that he doesn’t stop her when she takes a few steps back, a sad smile on her face: “I am sorry we cannot chat longer. Tell Jacob and Tina that I miss them very much.”, she says. 

The Legilimens disapparates with a crack before Newt can do anything. He stares disbelievingly at the empty spot before he hears a loud curse. As soon as he turns around, he can see Grimmson again, with an ugly cut stretching over his right cheek, before the hunter disappears as well. 

Tina runs to him with a worried expression: “Where is Queenie?” He only shakes his head and looks at the ground. He doesn’t see Tina’s reaction but he can hear a strangled sound. 

“Did we really hide the document in _Theseus’ and Leta’s_ old apartment?”, he asks her after a moment. 

She inhales sharply: “They knew? Oh no! The ideal solution would have been Gringotts, but we had _no time_ , so we thought this is the last place they would think of, since, she is - gone. We left a few of your more dangerous creatures there to guard it.”

They wouldn’t hold Grindelwald’s men. Not when he had people like Grimmson on his side. 

_Grimmson!_

It had been just like Paris: a trap. Only this time, the bait had been Queenie, whom Newt, Tina and Jacob obviously had a weakness for, and Grindelwald had sent _specifically Grimmson_. The mercenary must have told the dark wizard of Newt’s deep loathing for him. And Newt had fallen for it. He had seen the face of that creature-hunting monster and not been able to think clearly. Just like in the Ministry, when Newt had lost his chance of getting his travel ban lifted by stamping out of the hearing-room as soon as that awful man had made his appearance. Grindelwald had probably known exactly that Grimmson would keep Newt occupied long enough. 

The Magizoologist had stolen the document practically for Grindelwald and handed it to him on a silver platter. 

_Merlin, I just broke into the Ministry for it. Only to immediately lose it to him._

He needs to tell Theseus that Grimmson is no longer working for the Ministry (though he has no idea how. He would have to explain where he knows this from and his older brother is the last person who should know about their secret meeting with Grindelwald’s hencheman).

Newt looks at Tina, who is still waiting for an explanation. 

“It was a trap. Queenie was never in danger and believes in the Greater Good as much as before.” A deep sadness creeps into Tina’s eyes but she doesn’t look particularly surprised.  
“His followers only wanted to keep us out of their way. They already knew where we hid the document.”

“But _how_? Only you, Jacob and I knew and I obliviated you.” Her eyes widen: “You don’t think they cursed Jacob to tell them anything?”

Newt rubs his forehead: “No, that’s unlikely. He was with us the entire time. Maybe they followed us somehow?”

Tina shakes her head: “We apparated directly into your brother’s old apartment and I am a government official. They wouldn’t have been able to trace us.”

Newt rubs his forehead: “Please tell me that we altered the place of Dumbledore’s prison on the document?”

Tina slowly shakes her head: “We did, but I don't know if it will fool Grindelwald himself. We also hid some fake ones in other places in the apartment to confuse them. I mean, they weren’t supposed to know about the apartment, anyways! However, if Grindelwald was already aware…” She still looks like she cannot quite believe it. 

Both of them stand in silence, trying to find an answer, but Newt gets distracted by his own frustration and fear. 

It had been a trap. _A trap._

And they had fallen for it, _again_ , and now Grindelwald has the location of Dumbledore’s prison.

Grindelwald can go and kill him now, or send Credence or cast his _Fiendfyre_ \- 

_“What kind of murderer wears the symbol of his love for twenty-eight years in the spot right over his heart?”_

Grindelwald has probably pointed out that gesture to appeal to Queenie’s romantic heart, but she is naïve if she believes it to be true. 

_We who live for freedom, for truth and for **love.**_

Grindelwald’s words silently echo in his mind. 

He looks at Tina, who appears just as lost as he does. 

_“Bugger!”_

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**12th of June, at the same time, Travers’ apartment, London** _

Torquil Travers was having, without a doubt, the best time of his life. 

After Albus Dumbledore had been found guilty at the end of what was probably the most legendary trial of this century (at least within the Wizard Community of Great Britain), things were going well.

Not well, _fantastic!_

It had been a _glorious_ sight: the former Professor led away in chains by at least a dozen Aurors in front of the eyes of hundreds of politicians and officials. How satisfying it had been to see that arrogant fool despairing under his questions. The _triumph_ the Head of Magical Law Enforcement had felt, when he, Torquil Travers, had brought down the apparently most powerful wizard of Britain and forced him to spill his deepest, darkest secrets (though he must admit that President Picquery shares his success. A powerful witch and most impressive woman he’d like to get to know better). 

The feeling of _victory_ that had soared through his veins when Dumbledore had been subdued, revealed for what he truly was. Finally, _finally_ , Travers had proven his superiority when the Aurors had dragged the unconscious man to his knees to properly subdue him.

He opens the door to his chic apartment, located in one of the finest corners of London. A light breeze greets him and he muses that he must have forgotten to close the window in the living toom. He shrugs his coat off and puts his hat on top of the wardrobe. While he does so, he can’t stop his lips from smirking. 

For days, he has been hardly in his office at the Ministry, but given interviews for local newspapers, talked to politicians and travelled to several countries in the world to strengthen international relationships. 

_He, not Fawley! He!_

That weak idiot. It had been Fawley who had repeated over and over again that they needed Dumbledore; that they should worship him, so he would fight Grindelwald for them. The many free-passes the Minister had given the former teacher had made it clear just how desperate he was. 

_Have you been, and still are, in love with Gellert Grindelwald?_

_Yes._

Pathetic sodomite.

No, Torquil had never liked Dumbledore, never trusted him and made no secret out of it. This is why people are thinking him now better than Fawley. The first officials of his department have already come to him and assured him, that they would fully support him if he decided to _remove_ Fawley from his position. 

The Head of Magical Law Enforcement chuckles quietly and walks into the direction of the living room, the liquor-cabinet next to the door in mind. A nice glass of scotch would be the exact right thing now. 

Taking out a crystal tumbler and a bottle of the clear, honey-coloured liquid, he quietly contemplates. 

No, he doesn’t need to remove Fawley. The Minister will have to resign anyway, and soon, because the witches and wizards are scared and want someone new in power.  
Someone who can handle the situation, who is willing to use more radical tactics and who can finally put a stop to the terrible threat that is hovering over Wizarding Europe in the form of that blond, silver-tongued monster. 

Someone like Torquil.

But with the help of Seraphina (he likes that name, _Seraphina_ ; it has a pretty ring to it), MACUSA, the French Aurors, who are still furious at Grindelwald for almost destroying their capital, and the British Ministry, they will be able to defeat Grindelwald and his fanatics. 

He sighs contentedly as the delicious liquid runs smoothly down his throat and allows himself a private, little fantasy: He is towering above Grindelwald, the Dark Lord lying at his feet, eyes open and unseeing; his wand is securely clutched in Torquils’ hand while wizards are cheering in the distance, calling his name, the darkest magician of their age has just been defeated in a _legendary_ duel…

An unbidden grin comes to his lips as he lowers the tumbler and turns around, the praise of thousands of wizards still roaring in his ears-

Which is why he is taken by complete surprise when none other but Grindelwald himself is sitting in his favourite armchair, wand pointed at him and mis-matched eyes glowing mysteriously. 

Travers drops his glass and fumbles for his own wand but with one, lazy movement of Grindelwald’s hand, he is disarmed. 

The magical stick flies quite unspectacularly out of the open window. 

However, he wouldn’t have made it to the position of Head of Magical Law Enforcement, if he didn’t possess more advanced skills.

His wandless magic lashes out, ready to attack the most-wanted man in Europe (and probably the _whole world_ ), and it is certainly powerful but-

The dark wizard makes a tilt with his head, as if trying to shoo away a fly and just like that, Travers’ attack is distinguished and his magic is reduced to his own body. 

Not even Grindelwald’s hair has gotten out of order. 

“Do refrain from that, if you please, or I see myself forced to become violent.”, Grindelwald says quietly. 

Torquil grinds his teeth but puts his hands to his sides.

“Have you come to torture me?”

Grindelwald shakes his fair head and Travers’ right eyebrow twitches with annoyance at how effortlessly _elegant_ that movement seems. 

“Kill me then?” He is almost proud of how steady his voice is. Absolutely professional. 

His opposite smirks and the dark eye is glittering: “Not today.”.

Now, Torquil decides to make his impatience obvious and asks: “What did you come here for then, Grindelwald?”

The darkest wizard of their time leans back a little, as if to make himself more comfortable, and affectionately caresses his wand: a long, strangely shaped thing. 

“I have come to _thank you_ , Torquil Travers.”

Travers raises one eyebrow, now confused.

“Thank me?”

Grindelwald looks up, over Torquil’s right shoulder, at a portrait that shows the Travers family-tree and pauses, probably for dramatic affect.

It works because he would like to strangle the wizard, sitting in his favourite chair like he bloody owns this place, very much.

Grindelwald smiles discreetly: “Yes, Torquil, thank you. Thank you, for proving again how truly incompetent your government is. Thank you, for showing my Acolytes once more where they could have been, if they hadn’t decided to follow me.” He says that with so much disdain that Torquil can’t help but feel offended.

“I don’t think we are on a first-name basis, Grindelwald.”, he says instead, jaw clenched.

The blond wizard rises from the armchair and walks slowly towards the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Torquil refuses to take a step back and show something akin to fear, so he plants himself like a tree and looks determinedly at the blond. With smug pleasure, he notices that he is a little bit taller than him. 

Grindelwald lips form a thin smile and he comes to halt, directly in front of him. 

“ _Thank you_ , for being the _absolute idiot_ that you are and degrade Albus Dumbledore, your last hope of possibly defeating me, in front of the entire Wizarding world, shaming him, enjoy seeing him forced to bow before you. You have done me a _great_ favour.”

Torquil snorts, uncomfortably tense at the proximity: “What on earth are you talking about?”

Grindelwald takes a step back, folding his hands behind his back as he gives him an almost pitying look: “So oblivious.”

The Ministry official decides to ignore that statement and sneers: “Last chance of defeating you? How many of your little sheep have you lost when it came out what kind of nightly company you prefer? The entire world knows now and I am sure that the upper society doesn’t approve.”

Grindelwald has the gall to look downright amused now: “Not a single one.”  
He sees the cold disbelief in Torquil’s eyes and continues: “Every one of my loyal Acolytes knows. _I do not skulk in the shadows_. Unlike your many colleagues, I mean what I say. I am above lying. And those of my followers who decide that it is in fact a problem for them only need a bit of disciplining. _For the Greater Good_.”

Torquil makes a disgusted grunt: “You and your followers are downright abhorrent.”

The blond doesn’t seem particularly affected by that insult as he starts to leisurely stroll around Torquil’s living room, a kind of majestic grace to it, while the Ministry official stands still in the same place, not moving an inch. 

His mind is racing. Hastily, he goes though all possibilities of how to alert the British Aurors. Theseus Scamander would surely love to face the man who killed his fiancée. A note is far too suspicious, and it is impossible to Apparate in-an out of his apartment, same with flea-powder. Or at least it should be. 

“How did you get in here?”, he asks distractingly, voice edgy. Maybe he can get out in the same way and then alert his authorities that the most-wanted man in the world is currently walking around in his apartment, as if he wasn’t on every wanted-poster decorating Londons’ streets. 

“You have a severe lack of skill regarding security spells.”

Torquil’s nostrils flare and he clenches his fists at the sheer arrogance of the man before him, but he stays silent. Patient. 

Seriously, how hadn’t anyone noticed that Grindelwald has arrived in England?  
He really needs to root out some incompetence when he is back at the Ministry; in the best case with Grindelwald as his prisoner. 

This was actually an opportunity. He could end this war here and now, he was _so close_. One of their biggest problems they have in their fight against Grindelwald is, that nobody ever knows where the dark wizard is hiding. Nor what he wants to achieve with his strategic moves. 

His eyes fall on Grinedlwald’s wand, securely held in the wizard’s right hand that still rests on his back. If there was only some way to take it from him. He isn’t so naïve to think that Grindelwald would make it easy but if he could maybe _provoke_ him somehow…

Insult his cause or maybe his ideologies…just so that he would become a little bit inattentive. 

Grindelwald had already said that he doesn’t want to kill him ( _Not today_ – Torquil almost snorts; not that the Austrian would ever get a chance again after this evening) and despite his talent for manipulation, Torquil actually believes him. The dark wizard is known for keeping his promises. 

This could work, eventually. If he plans carefully, he can get Grindelwald’s wand, subdue him and alert the authorities in time. Or, preferably, drag him to the Ministry himself. He would certainly make a pretty picture, lying in a cell, next to a kneeling Dumbledore. 

“You imagine my Albus quite a lot on his knees.”, comes Grindelwald’s voice, cold and hard. Travers whips his head around to look at him. Every hint of a smile, however mocking it had been, is gone from his face. A hardness fills his devilish eyes and Travers can’t help but take a step back.

“Pardon?”

“I said, that you seem to imagine Albus kneeling before you quite often; and me, lying in the dirt at your feet while your greedy paws hold my wand.” 

Torquil can’s top his eyes from widening. Grindelwald had seen those pictures. A vision? No, it must have been-

“You are a Legilimens!”, he exclaims and cannot ban the shock from his voice. 

The investigators had ruled out that possibility, since Grindelwald has made a great effort to convince Queenie Goldstein to join his cause and, according to their spies, is using her abilities quite a lot. Besides, Legilimency was highly difficult and one had to have a high amount of natural talent for it, much like a Metamorphagus can simply transform on command, while others needed a wand and year-long training. 

He can feel his cheeks flushing. _Damn it_ , his mind had been open. He had learned Occlumency, of course. It is obligatory for every higher Ministry official, but not here, in his own home, when they had been _convinced_ that Grindelwald cannot look into other minds. He slams his mental shields in place as he gazes at the dark wizard who seems undisturbed by that. 

Instead he starts moving again. 

“Your Ministry and MACUSA think you know so much about me, now, that Albus was forced to tell the truth. But he is clever, far cleverer than the lot of you combined. While you have gotten your responses, there was so much _more_ that you should have asked.” He caresses his wand, dark amusement mirroring in his eyes. “But it is too late. Albus has played the game optimal from his limited position.”

Torquil sneers, refusing to let that arrogant peacock mock his latest victory: “You will go down, Grindelwald. One way or another. MACUSA, France, Germany, Russia, Bulgaria, Hungary…every country you wreaked havoc on will unite against you. Dumbledore will die in prison, sooner or later, and if I have a say in it, by the Dementor’s kiss.”, he tries to provoke the blond wizard.

“I stayed with MACUSA for over half a year, do you really think they can do anything that I have not already predicted? And France-“

His voice falters and he comes abruptly to halt, eyes trained on the board above the chimney. Torquil narrows his eyes, before he lets out a silent curse. 

_Oh, Merlin’s beard._

“You, Travers, are truly a _despicable_ creature.”, the dark wizard whispers disgusted, while he reaches for the broken object on the marble board. 

Torquil doesn’t answer. For the first time tonight, he feels like the wizard before him might actually kill him. Every previous emotion, be it mockery or arrogance, has disappeared from his face and been replaced with cold fury as he holds the objects up and into the light of the crackling fire: The two halves of the broken wand of Albus Dumbledore. 

Grindelwald clicks his tongue in disdain: “You _kept_ them. As a trophy, I presume? Normally, they get destroyed or stored somewhere in the Ministry but you, you _needed_ to have them, didn’t you?”

He chuckles without mirth and shakes his head lightly before his eyes fall on the board again. A book and a small, silver-coloured, rectangular item are still lying there. 

Grindelwald takes the silver thing and eyes it almost fondly. 

“Ah yes, Albus spoke about creating this. He made plans, you see, when he wasn’t working towards the Cause.”

Travers can only grit his teeth as Grindelwald takes the possession, as well as the book, and slides them into the pocket of his dark, heavy coat. 

“I will be taking these with me.”

He taps his own wand against his right knee a few times, the other, broken wand still in his left hand and seems to contemplate something. Travers swallows and suppresses the embarrassing instinct to run. Merlin, he needs to act _now_ or-

“I have decided to demonstrate why you, or the British Ministry or MACUSA will never be able to defeat me.”Grindelwald says ominously, voice soft as velvet, as he moves towards the armchair. 

He sits down and puts the broken wand on the small living-room table before him. Then he looks up and makes an impatient gesture to the other chair when he sees that Travers is still rooted to the same spot. 

“Sit!”, he orders. 

Reluctantly, very reluctantly, Travers comes over and settles down. 

Grindelwald nods satisfied and raises his own wand. 

The Head of Magical Law Enforcement furrows his brows in confusion. The dark wizard isn’t looking at him, that at least must be a good sign. Instead, he points his wand at the two broken halves in front of him.

Torquils’ eyes widen. Surely, Grindelwald cannot mean – not even he can be that arrogant to believe - that is not possible-no wizard can-

_“Reparo_ ”, Grindelwald says quietly and with a soft note in his voice. 

The destroyed wood makes a quick, weak move, before it puts itself together like it had never been apart. 

Grindelwald takes Dumbledore’s wand and swishes it one time, red and gold sparks flying from the top of it. 

“Look at that, she even recognizes me.”, he says fondly. 

Torquil can’t help it. His jaw is standing wide open.

Never.

Never in all of Wizard History has a wizard been powerful enough to-

This should be _impossible_ -

How? How could fate or Morgana’s ghost, or _whatever_ , reward someone like Gellert Grindelwald with something like this?

How could they give him _so much power?_

While Torquil is tearing his brain apart in order to find a reasonable answer, the dark wizard has risen from his seat and is walking towards the chimney, both wands firmly in his right hand, no longer paying attention to the struggling wizard. 

“Ho-How?”, Torquil stammers finally, demanding an answer to that impossibility that has just happened before him. 

Grindelwald does not reply immediately but throws some powder into the fire, that becomes instantly emerald green. 

He turns around, chin high and now illuminated by the flames behind which give him an almost inhuman glow. 

“You and your minions are all so small-minded, it is no wonder that you constantly lose against my forces. You tap around blindly in the dark. You have neither the _vision_ nor the _right_ to wield _true power_ , Travers.” 

He steps into the fire. 

“Oh, and Travers?”

Torquil tears his eyes away from the freshly repaired wand in the right hand of the magician

A fine smile is gracing Grindelwald’s lips. “I will forever remember that it was _you_ who initiated that trial.”

With a roar, a loudly spoken “Knockturn Alley” and a flash of lightning, Grindelwald disappears from Travers’ apartment. 

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**12th of June, directly after recent developments, Grindelwald’s hide-out near the English coast, Great Britain** _

Grimmson and Queenie are already expected by Vinda Rosier when they appear in the dirty living room of the English cottage they have occupied not too long ago. Grindelwald’s first lieutenant stands confidently next to the couch, back straight and arms crossed in front of her chest. She is as impeccable as ever, sharply dressed in dark, high-waisted trousers and a hat resting on her head in a dramatic angle. Only the light tapping of her right foot betrays her silent agitation. 

But one might understand: Her job and maybe her life depend on the outcome of this mission today. 

Grimmson makes a low noise, sounding like a wounded animal, and touches the large cut on his cheek. His fingertips turn red from the leaking blood. 

“Your sister is a real bitch, you know.”, he snarls.

Queenie glares angrily at him but manages to hold her temper. She will address Grimmson’s behaviour today later to Mister Grindelwald. 

Rosier doesn’t acknowledge their little quarry, neither does she greet them in fact. She just stares at the Apparation spot in the centre of the room. 

Abernathy, Nigel and Carrow arrive, all three of them looking rumpled and out of breath. 

The first one steps forward, holding a heavy-looking envelope, while the other two join Grimmson and Queenie near the wall. 

The former MACUSA-official lifts the paper. 

“And you are sure that this is not some kind of deception?”, Rosier asks, her voice vibrating with her accent. 

“Positive! It was in the exact spot the Dark Lord told us about. I assume that Scamander made a magical copy, but I recognize the stamp and the signature from MACUSA. It is real.”

The French witch takes it, a touch too eager, and holds it securely in her hands. The atmosphere in the room is now less tense and they stay silent, apart from Grimmson who makes occasional hissing noises. 

They don’t have to wait long until their Master Apparates into their middle. 

His expression is impassive, though one can detect a hint of dark satisfaction in his eyes as he turns to his most loyal follower. 

Rosier comes closer and presents him _l’eneveloppe:_ “The document has been successfully retrieved, _Maître_.”

Grindelwald takes it and nods appreciatively: “Well done, Rosier.” Grimmson looks like he wants to step forward, refusing to let Rosier take all the credit because she has stayed here the whole time, only coordinating the operation, but he is stopped by Nigel and Carrow. 

The Dark Lord narrows his eyes and his gaze stops briefly at Queenie before  
he turns to Grimmson. 

“Your services are no longer required – return to your post.”, he orders. 

The bounty hunter presses his lips together but follows his Master’s command and disapparates. 

Now, present company consists solely of some of Grindelwald’s most loyal followers. 

The dark wizard opens the envelope and unfolds the document with care. 

The Acolytes shift slightly, each of them discretely trying to hide their eagerness to know where Dumbledore has been brought to. One of them, Nigel, had briefly considered opening it in Scamander’s apartment but managed to resist in the end. He prefers being alive and that can change very quickly whenever Dumbledore is involved. 

Krall, incinerated in the blue fire, serves as a perfect example. 

Meanwhile, their Master has tipped his wand on the paper, casting a silent _revelio_ , and is now reading the first few lines and while his expression betrays nothing of his inner thoughts, the furniture around them starts rattling slightly and the air around them crackles with magic. 

Finally, he looks up.

 

“We shall return to the Continent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it for now. Anyone an idea where Dumbledore might be?
> 
> The plot is getting to its climax. 
> 
> About Grindelwald repairing Dumbledore's wand: In the seventh book, Harry manages with the Elderwand to fix his own wand as well, so it is canon that the Elderwand has this kind of power and not simply my interpretation. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. The Pendant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back?
> 
> I finally managed to finish this chapter and, surprise, it is an EXTRA long one (about 14500 words). The last three months were really awful, so I honestly didn't have the time to write but it is more or less over now.   
> Once more: Thank you so, so much for your comments. They really helped me a lot, both as motivation and emotionally. 
> 
> !IMPORTANT!: Please read the End-Notes! There will be something that requires your opinion.
> 
> WARNING: I have received some rude comments. I appreciate constructive criticism but rude and insulting comments will be ignored and immediately deleted.
> 
> THANK YOU Dunedain789, for starting to Beta-read my stories. Unfortunately, we were both pretty occupied and didn't manage to get further than the first chapter, but still, THANK YOU SO MUCH! 
> 
> So, I am done: Have fun reading!

_**1904, Rosier-Mansion, Lyon, France** _

_Vinda had always taken great pride in her excellent self-control. The ability to stay absolutely impassive, hiding one’s true emotions and be able to make an impactful remark with the mere twitch of an eyebrow is an art she had perfected. This kind of skill was of cruel necessity in the social circles she attended.  
But right now, she could feel her normally endless patience being severely tested. _

_Seventeen years old, recently graduated from Beauxbatons and chained to a fate that had been decided for her when she was born: Engaged to Aloïs Avery.  
Her parents had formed that contract with the Avery -family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, just as the Rosier family was, soon after her birth as usual for all those who were of the purest of blood. She had accepted his courtship. Why wouldn’t she? They would join their lavish inheritance and keep their blood-line impeccable at the same time.  
But he was so unskilled in the arts of magic. So plain. So incredibly_ dense.

_That thought hadn’t left her since the beginning of their engagement-party, which was held in the ballroom and adjourning garden and balcony of the Rosier-Estate, as she stood near the entrance, beneath huge chandeliers that shed enough light to illuminate the entire room. Draped in a gold, velvet dress and standing next to her dim-witted fiancé, she looked around and dispelled her boredom by observing the other guests. Only the Elite of the European Wizarding World had been invited to the large mansion._

_The Prevetts were attending, the Notts and the DeVilliers. No-one worth talking unless she wanted to get even more bored. She let her eyes roam around the room until they settled on an odd pairing at the other end of the hall. One of them was the head of the Giavello-family, an old, Italian bloodline. An unpleasant gentleman, he gave off an air of arrogance and dismissal to those around him. Not right now however. There was a thin smile on his lips and though his eyes held a mean glint, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Next to him stood a far more interesting person: A young, very handsome man with golden curls and mysterious, mis-matched eyes. He held himself upright, not in an arrogant, spoiled way like most of the other guests, but more like a man of the military, with a strong sense of purpose.  
She continued to observe the charming boy who talked easily to the grim-looking elder, perhaps about the other guests and their bêtise.  
With his elegant, dark waistcoat and his tidily slicked-back hair, he seemed to fit in perfectly into the mass of the pure-blooded elite.  
So much that most people obviously didn’t notice that he was an uninvited guest in these halls. _

_As soon as the thought left her mind, the man - adolescent really - turned his head and looked around several other guests directly at her, a small smirk on his well-shaped lips.  
He excused himself from Giavello and started moving towards her, his walk determined and graceful, as if he was used to people stepping out of his way to build a path for him.   
Her attention got drawn to a silver pendant, tucked safely in the left chest-pocket of his vest where normally a Mouchoir de poche would be. Its beauty was distracting and she had to force himself to look back at the stranger’s face, who stood now directly in front of her, bowing slightly but not deep enough, offering his hand for a dance – and breaking every rule of social protocol.   
Before her fiancée was able to say anything, however, she had already accepted; the promise of something that wasn’t socializing just too tempting to resist. _

_“You don’t belong here.” she started their conversation with a neutral tone as soon as they were in the middle of the hall between the other dancing couples and in English, since it was the common-tongue at this party. Unfortunately.  
To her surprise, he only smirked at her and showed white, even teeth: “Congratulations, you are officially the first one to notice”, he praised her soberly while easily spinning her around, in absolute synchronisation with the others. His English was perfect, except for the barest hint of an accent that was certainly not French. _

_“You don’t seem particularly worried that I know.”_

_“I am not. If you plan on telling someone, I will stop you.”_

_She raised her left eyebrow: “You are dangerously arrogant.”_

_“Or rightfully confident.”_

_The accent was German. No, Austrian. One of her schoolmates in Beaubatonxs was from Salzburg, and pronounced the vocals of their language in a similar harsh way, though much stronger than the boy in front of her.  
She gave him a thin smile: “I will tell my fiancé then that I can’t remember inviting someone who isn’t part of our circles.” _

_Again, the boy didn’t seem bothered by her degrading words and simply smiled charmingly at her, yet without any warmth: “Magic is magic. It is those without that we should concern ourselves with.”, he answered her with an edifying voice._

_Well, Vinda mused, the stranger was either very brave or very stupid to make a statement like that in a room full of pure-bloods, many of them having beliefs similar to those of the Middle-age and some of the most important Ministry-officials with their obsessive wish to protect the current state of being in regards of les Non-Magiqués. Yet, she decided to play the game with him. It was better than standing next to Aloïs and listening to him humiliating himself._

_“Monsieur - ” she began and he helpfully added “Grindelwald”_

_“Monsieur Grindelwald, it is quite dangerous to say something like that. Imagine what could happen if the authorities would hear of your opinion. The Statute of Secrecy has protected us for hundreds of years.”, she recited her tutor dutifully, curious what he would answer.  
The boy was obviously not stupid either for he had heard the subtle threat behind her words. He offered her a smirk that showed just a hint of too much teeth to be considered amicable instead of arrogant. _

_“That would be truly unfortunate indeed. But it has never been my intention to hide, like the rats in the gutter of your beloved capital_ , n’est-ce pas?”  
 _“Careful!”, she answered coolly, “In France, we don’t like it very much if one insults our capital, however rightfully so. Especially not by a_ German.” _She deliberately included the mistake to provoke him – and it worked._

_His nostrils flared and he slightly rose his chin as he corrected her snobbishly: “Austrian.”_

_“Same difference.”, she answered dismissively. The blond man raised his eyebrows and slightly parted his lips to lecture her but then he quickly recognized her ignorance as well-paced jab and amusement sparkled in his cold eyes._

_Before he could answer something, however, the melody stopped and the rude gentleman released her: “Alright then, I will let you return into the arms of your fiancé. You must have missed his company_ dearly.”   
_He gave her a mocking smile while he bowed, again not deep enough - as if it was only a favour to her that he lowered himself to: “Au Revoir,_ Mademoiselle Avery.”

_Her fingers twitched angrily at the name and she would like to correct him but knew that she would get the same answer she gave him seconds ago: Same difference  
.  
And, unfortunately, the Austrian was right. _

_Grindelwald gave her one last infuriating smirk and marched into the direction of the balcony.  
“Touché”, she mumbled to herself. _

_The witch stood there for a moment, contemplating, while the other guests rearranged themselves for the next dance._

_Then she followed him._

_He was already waiting for her at the balustrade, holding two goblets of Elf-made Wine.  
She took one out of spite before he even had the time to offer it and resumed their conversation again: “You said some very dangerous things in there, Monsieur Grindelwald.”_

_He didn’t comment on her impolite gesture and raised his own glass to clink it against hers, though without taking a sip: “Everything that isn’t thinking what the government dictates is dangerous, Mademoiselle Avery.”_

_This time she didn’t flinch at the use of “Avery”. It was her future name after all._

_“I could report you.”_

_Her gaze dropped for the second time this evening to his chest where the pendant was half-hidden beneath his waist-coat. She didn’t see Grindelwald’s eyes narrowing as he noticed the particular route of her gaze and shoved the jewellery securingly deeper into his breast-pocket, and with that out of sight: “You could, but you won’t.”, his silken voice distracted her and she returned her gaze back to his face._

_“And why is that?”  
“Because you think I am right.”_

_Of course she did, but she would certainly not tell him that. Instead she battered her lashes and asked innocently: “Right about what?”  
Grindelwald’s expression betrayed nothing: “That the Statute of Secrecy should be taken down.”  
“I do not indulge in such traitorous thoughts.”, she lied effortlessly and raised her goblet to her lips once more. A fire, energetic and powerful, seemed to inflame in Grindelwald’s eyes and she felt herself drawn to it. _

_“Then you’ve made the decision to live in shackles. Although you are far more observant than your future-husband, more elegant and certainly more skilled than those dancing fools in the room behind you.”_

But not more than you, of course, _she thought for herself, annoyed and at the same time utterly fascinated by the sheer confidence of the man in front of her. He truly believed in his words.  
It was difficult to twist her features into the impassive mask that normally came so easily to her: “Very flattering. But those sorts of compliments won’t get you out of this situation.”_

_“No, I suppose not.”, he answered, his face already hiding his true emotions again.  
She let her eyes roam over the handsome Austrian once more. He was right of course. She was much smarter than Aloïs. One of the things that made her truly uncomfortable with her future marriage.   
And another part of her was simply…not ready yet to live a domestic life. To stay in a mansion and host dinner parties. But she usually forbade herself to have thoughts like that. _

_Grindelwald had that arrogant, little smirk on his lips again, though he stayed silent for once._

_“What do you really want here, Monsieur Grindelwald?”_

_His posture became a bit straighter, if possible, and he folded his hands behind his back, while taking one step forward, but without towering over her.  
“I came here looking for followers worthy of my cause.”_

_She snorted: “What cause?”_

_“A revolution.”_

_For the first time this evening, and a long time in general, really, Vinda was briefly at a loss for words: “A revolution? You are what, twenty?”  
“Twenty-one.”, he corrected her, not impolite but with a deeper tone in his voice that suggested his displeasure. _

_She composed herself. Grindelwald was obviously dead serious about what he just said: “You want to revolutionize the Government, if I interpret your comment from earlier correctly?”_

_He nodded slightly, his angelic curls softly whipping with the beat: “Amongst other things.”  
The mismatched eyes examined her: “And I have found one devotee, tonight.”   
She couldn’t stop the scandalized little laugh that escaped her: “I don’t think so. I will certainly not leave with a twenty-one-year old boy to play soldier.”_

_“Of course not, we have only just met. However, we have similar thoughts about the Statute of Secrecy, haven’t we? And, if my impression of you is correct, a cunning witch like yourself is not interested in a calm life with your bigoted fiancé, full of long days taking care of children. Everything I plan on doing, however, is for the Greater Good of all wizardkind.”_

_It was the second time he had complemented her skills tonight. It was refreshing, being praised for that and not the quality of her blood.  
The phrase_ “For the greater Good” _silently echoed in her mind, while she rolled the now empty goblet in her hands, silently contemplating and then finally answering: “How about we write letters for the beginning? To exchange thoughts about…shared opinions.”_

_For the first time, Grindelwald’s mask cracked, if only for a mere second, and something dark moved in the depths of his eyes. His hand made a weird twitch into the direction of his breast-pocket, but the moment is so fleeting that it could have been imagined and he already nodded to give his approval while giving her his charming smile.  
“I will expect your owl then.”, she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.   
The cold amusement returned to his face but he answered nothing to her implication that he must write her first and not vice-versa.  
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment before Grindelwald reached into his pocket: “I have a gift for you.”  
He handed her a small vial, containing something that looked like greenly meat. _

_She took it, hiding her curiosity, and frowned when she realized what it was. A piece of dragon tongue.  
“Why would I need that?”, she asked instead of thanking him.   
“You do not. At least not now.”  
Vinda raised her gaze, arranging her features to look sceptic: “How would you know?”  
He shakes his head slightly: “I think we exchanged enough dangerous secrets for one evening, Mademoiselle.”   
He stepped close to the balustrade and set down his still-full goblet._

_“I will be on my way, then.”_

_He took her hand and for a moment, an almost hopeful moment, it seemed that the blond wizard might give her the socially demanded hand-kiss, but he jerked to a halt, a whiff too abrupt to be casual, and let go again, overplaying it by bidding her farewell: “Au Revoir,_ Madame Rosier.”  
 _With a quiet crack he disapparated, although it shouldn’t be possible._

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_They had stayed in touch afterwards; through letters as discussed.  
She enjoyed their written conversations immensely. They talked about their political opinions, (though always careful and using codes and hidden meanings) the rising tension between the European countries and about the fatuousness of their fellow wizards. Soon she realized, that Grindelwald had an exceptional talent for rhetorical seduction, that was perhaps solely bested by his academic brilliance, seeming superior to all others. She would never admit it, especially not to the arrogant Austrian himself (though he became more modest over the years), but her answers were often delayed because she had to look up certain terms or reread theories to understand what he had written to her. And then she still didn’t sometimes.   
Yes, it was nice to talk to a truly intelligent person from time to time. One with an idea. One with vision. One who didn’t want to keep the Status Quo like her dull-witted husband. She could have a new life, a new purpose, where she could fight for what she believed right.   
He also wrote about her how he was slowly gaining followers - that his message was starting to spread beyond the borders of Austria, and an enchanted castle in his home-country (though he would not tell her where exactly)._

_She kept his gift in a cursed leather-pouch that only she could open, still unsure what to do with it. Dragon tongue was extremely rare, but useless, unlike dragon blood. Her fingers burned with the wish to ask her correspondent but she trusted his words that she would use it one day. Instead she sent him an article from the Daily prophet (she had subscribed to a lot of different newspapers) about a young professor at Hogwarts who had discovered not one but twelve uses of Dragon blood. Next to the printed text was a very small picture of the professor, an exasperated but kind smile on his face, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the camera focused on him. It could have been amusing, if it didn’t make him look so ridiculous.  
The answering letter had taken several weeks then, which was already strange enough and the written lines held a quite passive-aggressive tone for the lack of a better word. Grindelwald thought that the concept was brilliant but unfortunately insignificant since the mild-mannered professor decided to only hide in a school where his theories would never effectuate something. She had frowned at the direction of thought but dismissed it eventually._

_In time, the world started to notice Gellert Gridelwald as well. Unimportant newspapers and whispering voices spread rumours about a man, a wizard, with an all-seeing eye, in the centre of Europe who was calling for battle. For_ revolution.   
_The government dismissed them of course, deemed them unimportant and proclaimed the wizard a swindler who sought for attention - and Vinda thought them foolish for it. They were clearing a path for Grindelwald by not acting against him while they still could and he wasn’t the young boy with ridiculous dreams from the balcony in Lyon anymore._

 _No, his dreams came_ true. 

_Once she asked him about the mysterious jewel he had worn when they had met in 1904. He didn’t answer her and with that, the suspicion that it must hold some emotional value was confirmed.  
Grindelwald never gave anything about himself away. Nothing about his family, his past or his own, personal desires. It was alright, because she wasn’t a very open person herself, but she had a naturally curious persona. One that enjoyed solving riddles. _

_And Gellert Grindelwald was even better than a riddle: he was a_ mystery. 

_It was in 1915, a year after the beginning of the Great War, when they saw each other again for the first time. Grindelwald had acquired a more serious reputation now. With his illegal interference in the Great War, the triangle, the circle and the line was now known by many magicians who fought with him during the early days of the war, loyally or just for the sake of convenience, as_ Grindelwald’s _symbol. They all told all the same things about him: Gellert Grindelwald was a wizard so powerful that he could defeat entire armies with a single swish of his wand._

_Her husband had become unbearable, reciting the importance of the Statute of Secrecy over and over again while wizards died in a conflict that les Non-Magiqués had started. That they shouldn’t interfere with the mass-slaughtering that happened in the world. He insulted Grindelwald and called the dark wizard a brainless fanatic who used the general turmoil in the world to get his five minutes of fame. An attempt to play pure-blood._

_And with a sense of poetic justice, he suddenly died afterwards. There were no traces of murder or suicide and his body showed all indications of a heart-attack was the statement after a throughout investigation. Among the many consolation letters she received in the following days was also an invitation to Vienna.  
She prepared the funeral, just as a dutiful wife should, inherited her husband’s entire fortune and rural properties as well as his mansion and current home in Paris. Madame Avery took the name Rosier again and walked away from the city - without looking back once._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Summer, 1915, Main Station, Vienna, Austria** _

_When her train arrived in Vienna (she had taken the Non-wizard transport for the sake of anonymity - for the first and definitely last time in her life), Grindelwald waited personally at the station for her, dressed in a stylish dark coat.  
He had changed: his curls were of lighter colour now, his skin harsher and paler. Due to the use of dark magic, she thought fascinated. But his face was as handsome as before and a new aura of power surrounded him with such intensity that it almost unsettled her. _

_Waiting for the people in front of her to leave the train, she noticed that the same pendant that he had worn fifteen years ago was pinned to his coat on the left side of his chest. Directly above his heart, she cursed herself for not making that observation sooner. Glowing in a soft, warm light, it seemed unfitting for a man who looked so harsh and unattached. The most reasonable explanation why a man like Grindelwald would wear something like that was that it must be a family-heirloom that he carried with him out of respect. She mentally made note to ask him once more and hope to get an answer this time. One way or another, she would try to get a closer look._

_Vinda had given him her most seducing smile as she took his offered hand to help her down the steps of the train. More than a few Non-Magiqués turned their heads to gaze at the two of them. She knew very well the effect she had on men and women alike – men were trapped by her beauty and she inflamed envy in the hearts of women. Even more so with a handsome man like Grindelwald, who bowed slightly to press a feather-light kiss on the knuckles of her right hand, without flinching away this time.  
In a carriage they left into the direction of the Austrian alps._

_“My condolences on your husband’s demise.”_

_“It was very sudden. I had hardly time to…wrap my mind around his death.”  
A smirk formed on Grindelwald’s lips: “I take It you made good use of my gift, then?“  
“Indeed. Though I am curious about how you could have known of a poison that fakes a heart-attack without leaving any evidence in 1904 that was going to be invented ten years later and requires the use of dragon-tongue.”_

_The dark wizard raised an eyebrow: “I am sure you have found out by now? Otherwise I might have to reconsider my offer for you to join my followers.”_

_Vinda snorted: “You are a Seer.”, she answered, unable to entirely hide how impressed she was. “There are not many magicians who possess the Sight.”_

_Grindelwald nodded slightly: “It can be a gift and a curse.”_

_Silence settled soon between them, accompanied by the soft noises of the horses._

_When they reached Nurmengard, Vinda was honestly awed by the castle Grindelwald had built in the middle of nowhere, high up in the mountains.  
“You’ve been diligent.”, she said._

_“Revolutionists often prefer to meet in the underground, where they are surrounded by darkness that obscure their deeds and intentions. I will not. Should my enemies ever find Nurmengard, it will turn into a fortress.”, he turned his head slightly: “And a prison soon afterwards.”_

_There was an admirable number of followers in the castle: Wizards and witches who listened solely to Grindelwald’s command - Most of them from the area or its neighbouring cities._

_One of Grindelwald’s officers told her that most of his followers were in other countries, preferring to stay hidden and support Grindelwald in secret._

_They were all cowards in Vinda’s opinion, unworthy to follow Grindelwald, but the dark wizard apparently didn’t mind, despite his talk of stepping out of the shadows. On the contrary, he found it quite useful to have spies everywhere.  
“One day, all of us will live in the light”, he guaranteed her when she asked him sceptically._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Early Spring, 1917, Nurmengard, Austrian Alps** _

_The detail was a small thing, really. She almost missed its importance.  
On an unusual cold day, the dark Lord brewed tea, although he usually preferred coffee. She had joined him in one of the large living rooms and stood half-way turned away from her, preparing his cup as they talked about the recent developments of the war: “My vision of the Great War has predicted that the United States will join the Allied Powers soon.”, he said, dipping a spoon in the nearby standing sugar bowl and absently starting to shuffle it into the cup, while Vinda’s mouth curled slightly, disgusted at the sheer amount.   
“The Muggles in Russia will start a bloody civil war, but eventually step out of the Great War before it ends. It will allow the Central Powers to concentrate on one front.”  
He stopped when he suddenly realized that he had added way too much of the sweet intensifier. Pressing his lips together, he let the liquid vanish with a flick of his hand and turned fully around. _

_“I expect some of our Russian friends will be trying to escape the slaughter in their own country and travel to Nurmengard. We must be prepared to take refugees.”  
The French witch nodded thoughtfully as she reconsidered his words in her mind.   
Then it hit her._

Muggles!

 _Grindelwald had said_ Muggles. _Not_ Nichtmagier _or_ Non-Magiqués _(which he usually said when he was speaking with her) and not_ non-wizards.

_It was a very fine difference of language, but Muggle was a terribly English word, and maybe it was insignificant, but it could be-  
“You have lived in England for a while, am I right?”, she blurted out, unable to stop herself. The falter of his movements was almost non-existent. _

_“Yes”, he breathed after a moment. “One of my relatives lives there.”_

_He caught her gaze and there was something new shining in his mis-matched eyes: Genuine respect._

_That very evening, he asked her to accompany him to a room in one of the castle’s towers. When he opened the wooden door, she could see two wizards and one witch already occupying the room, all eagerly talking to each other. They were Grindelwald’s Acolytes, his most trusted followers: Nagel, MacDuff and Carrow.  
They all greeted their Master respectfully and then looked at her. Grindelwald’s intentions were obvious: His inner circle had just gained one more member. _

_Vinda gave them a cool smile:_ “Bonsoir!”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**April 1919, Budapest, Hungary** _

_Grindelwald’s name was spreading like a fire to the furthest corners of the Continent.  
His radical actions within the magical community and crimes in the world of les Non-Magiqués, that threatened the fragile peace which had developed after the Great war, lead the Magical Ministries of Middle and Western Europe to release an arrest-warrant for him. His face was pictured in every Newspaper and Aurors were set on his trail. _

_They travelled to Budapest, the first city where Grindelwald called for a rally. Many wizards and witches of the Hungarian Magical community were still furious since their country had been suffering severely from the actions of war, regionally caught between the Central Powers and the Russian Empire back during the war._

_The dark wizard ascended the stage in the Hungarian State Opera House -magically enchanted so no Non-Wizard could enter- and held a speech that moved the spectators, who had come from all over the Continent, to the core. He did so in fluent Hungarian (much to her surprise) and in English._

_And what a success the assembly was._

_A few German Aurors found them shortly after in their head-quarters. They had no idea what they were dealing with. The dark Lord defeated them in mere moments.  
Vinda smiled thinly while he did so. It was already too late. They hadn’t stopped Grindelwald when they should have and now, they couldn’t anymore.   
She had seen him on the battle field, wielding his wand like a conductor and commanding wind, fire and earth with an ease that would make earth itself jealous. The rumours she had heard before got confirmed in front of her eyes, as she followed him to the darkest places of the world during that time. He was fierce and fearless. _

_He was freedom._

_There was no-one who could possibly stop him._

_Yet, Gellert Grindelwald declared Albus Dumbledore to be the greatest threat to their cause._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Winter, 1921, Nurmengard, Austrian Alps** _

_It was winter in Austria. Nurmengard was often surrounded by snow due to its height and location in the Alps, but when you walked down the mountain a bit, there was green grass and high, dark fir trees. Also, the gardens of the castle were enchanted; it was always warm enough, so that the flowers could grow. Now, however, everything looked like it was covered in a white blanket made of cotton. A bottle of fine wine and two goblets stood on the small table in the living room of Vinda’s chambers and she had a warm fire cackling in the chimney as the witch waited in one of the two elegant armchairs for her Master to arrive. She had invited him for a glass of wine and a nice talk after he had returned from a mission in Bratislava. As it had turned out, Gellert Grindelwald was terrible at drinking. And a bitter one at that. The wine managed to loosen his tongue after a few sips and he knew it. That’s why he was always careful to stay away from it. However, today he had agreed to a glass and she would see that she learned a bit more about his heavily guarded secrets. Alcohol was a good instrument to do so and as soon as Grindelwald arrived, Vinda filled their goblets.  
With every sip of the blood red liquid, his eyes turned more hooded and his straight posture became more relaxed.  
Soon, he had discarded his coat and was only wearing a blue shirt and his dark trousers. They talked about this and that and after she had a bit herself, the conversation turned more personal._

_“Were you able to love your husband?”, he asked her, genuinely curious._

_She thought for a while, sipping slowly, but the answer was actually quite clear to her: “No. I had no regrets when I left Paris. He was a fool. He wasn’t even a bad man, but simply, stupid._ Un idiot insupportable.”

_She frowned when she noticed that her accent was becoming stronger and set her goblet down. She needed to keep a clear head if she wanted to learn something about Grindelwald tonight._

_Grindelwald smirked amused at her answer: “He was not very handsome either.”_

_This made her laugh after all. Aloïs hadn’t been ugly by any means but she could imagine that he hadn’t been after Grindelwald’s taste. Too weak.  
The dark Lord crossed his legs and stared out of the window. The moonlight illuminated his silhouette and granted him a magical aura and Vinda couldn’t tear her eyes away. Even the nightly sky seemed to favour the wizard in front of her. _

_Maybe it was the wine that turned her bold. Maybe she was frustrated that she hadn’t made any progress in solving the mystery that was Grindelwald. Or maybe it was the fact that Grindelwald was the most powerful wizard she’d ever met. She was definitely not in love with him, however, in this moment, Vinda_ wanted.

_So, she bent forward and kissed him.  
He looked at her, eyes wide, and she chuckled quietly into the kiss. Grindelwald was very, very rarely surprised. _

_“What do you think you’re doing?”, he snarled, leaning back and she briefly wondered if she had gone too far this time. She wasn’t used to this kind of reaction from men._

_“I’ve never seen you with a lover, Maître.”, she lied. She had seen him with men and women._

_He pushed her away from him, not violent and with a hidden tenderness, that she might only imagine. Yet, he stared down at her and said clearly: “You are not my type. And don’t lie to me.”_

_She leaned back in her chair, picking up her goblet again: “What is it then that you desire in a companion?”, she asked, her lips forming a secret smile behind it. He was provoked and it would hopefully made him slip.  
Unfortunately, her master seemed to be not as intoxicated as she had guesses: “I am committed to the Greater Good. Distractions such as a partner do not interest me.”, he said dignified and without wavering.  
Vinda didn’t give up: “In a companion for one night then.”  
Grindelwald frowned and stayed quiet as he absently rolled the stem of his goblet between his fingers. When she had accepted that she might not receive a response tonight after several moments, he answered quietly: “Intelligence.” He stopped again, narrowing his eyes, “They must be intelligent.”, he repeated slowly “and skilled in the magical arts.” Something undefinable rushed over his face: “Red hair._ Als ob sie aus den Flammen eines Feuers empor gestiegen wären.”, _he finished before refilling the goblet._

“As if they had stepped out of the flames of a fire”, _she translated in her head._

How…poetic. 

_She contemplated her next words for a long time while Grindelwald stared into the depths of his wine. For the lack of anything better to say, she teased carefully: “Red hair? Like the colour of the first witches and wizards? Maybe you do have some taste after all.”_

_Grindelwald barked out a short laughter, the first one she had heard from him in a long time and he leaned back in his chair._

_He stilled and his amused smile turned in a cold smirk as he gathered himself. His mysterious eyes caught her gaze and she felt suddenly tense, the relaxed, alcohol-insinuated atmosphere gone: “But the_ truth _is, my dear Vinda”, Grindelwald whispered with sparkling eyes: “That there is no-one worthy of being my partner here. Not one of my followers or of all those bigoted fools in the Ministries we are fighting - none of them are worthy of calling themselves_ my equal.” 

_With that, he drowned the rest of the wine and then started to stagger out of the room. Vinda looked after him, not even noticing the further, amusing proof of his incompetence when it came to drinking.  
Her mouth was slightly opened; Just a bit, but still enough for her to be embarrassed when she noticed and she hastily closed it. _

_“I see.”, she simply answered into the void, looking at the door for a long time after he had left.  
However, that cold Winter night, when she was snuggled in the silk-sheets of her large bed, she asked herself a question that would remain unanswered for many years. She wondered what it would be like – to be loved by Gellert Grindelwald. _

_Two days later, she was promoted to Grindelwald’s first lieutenant, the highest position in his army. While everyone congratulated her, their Master, paler than usual, looked at her with a warning expression. He allowed her more freedom than every other Acolyte but she had overstepped the boundaries. Lucky for her, he had decided to see her bold move as a form of intelligent strategy and not foolishness. That didn’t mean that her life was any less in danger, though._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**January, 1923, Krakow, Poland** _

_They were visiting a potential ally when it happened.  
Grindelwald had left for the wizard’s – Buczek – mansion, while she, Carrow, Nagel, MacDuff and two new Acolytes called Krafft and Krall stayed in their hide-out. _

_Krafft and her were discussing the differences between the teaching techniques in Durmstrang and Beaubatonxs, when the door flew open with a loud crash and Grindelwald marched into the room, closely followed by a huge, bulky man who looked quite anxious despite his impressive stature._

_Grindelwald’s eyes were burning with fury as he assessed them._

_“There will be a second war.”_

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Summer, 1925, Nurmengard, Austrian Alps** _

_Vinda was wandering through the long corridors of Nurmengard. She hadn’t been able to sleep and so she had decided to go to the library to look for an interesting book. A rare quietness filled the castle and the warm summer air, that came in through the opened windows, felt pleasant on her skin. While passing them, she could suddenly make out small light on the upper floor in the west side of the castle. Only one person had their quarters there: The Dark Lord himself.  
She tilted her head. That would mean that Grindelwald was still up and just as restless as she was. Perhaps he was willing to play a round of wizarding chess. _

_Deciding to leave the books in the library for tonight, she changed her path and walked towards Grindelwald’s suite. Before she reached his room however, she slowed her pace and came to stand when she realized that his door was ajar.  
Carefully, without being heard, she tiptoed to the entrance and looked through the wide gap. What she saw made her pause in silent surprise. The room was weakly illuminated by three candles, hovering in the air and flickering warmly. The window was open (probably due to the heat) and the drapes were billowing in the warm breeze._

_Grindelwald wasn’t in bed, but sat at his writing desk instead.  
He looked…exhausted. There were deep, dark shadows under his eyes, his sleeping attire was crumbled and his hair ruffled. It made her frown. She had never seen him anything less than absolutely presentable, so this untidy display unsettled her. The skull, which he used to control his visions to an extent, was placed right next to him and Vinda managed to connect the dots: he must have had a vision - and an incredibly intense one at that. The pendant hung loosely around his neck and peeked just shily out of the fold of his white sleeping shirt. Apparently, he didn’t even take it off when he went to bed.   
For a few moments, she simply looked at him, not used to see this side of him until she realized that her master was staring at something in his right hand. She adjusted her position, so she could see all of Grindelwald, who hadn’t noticed her yet.   
Her lips parted in surprise when she recognized a piece of paper. The years had taken their toll on it and it had become faded, but Vinda could still make out the shapes: An article form the Daily Prophet. Vinda raised her eyebrows in surprise and stepped a little bit closer, trying to read his expression, but Grindelwald seemed very far away with his thoughts. _

_She leaned against the doorframe, still hidden in the shadows.  
There was something peaceful about how he looked at the yellowed piece of paper. A hidden tenderness and troubled at the same time. Like a drop that caused the water surface of a pond to ripple._

Melancholy

_Briefly, she was tempted to knock and step inside to – well, she didn’t really know. It was not something she’d normally do.  
So, she turned around and left again, leaving Gellert Grindelwald his privacy._

_However, Vinda would deny until her dying day that she went to the kitchen first before she returned to her chambers and asked the house-elves to put a tray with tea and biscuits in front of Grindelwald’s door._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Early Autumn, 1925, War Room of Nurmengard, Austrian Alps** _

_They were sitting in the great war room of the castle. A beautiful space, with white marble walls and windows that reached from the floor to the ceiling. The Acolytes and some of Grindelwald’s highest-ranking officers were gathered around a long table, crafted of dark wood. The dark Lord himself was sitting at its head, on a chair covered in red velvet. He was wearing a green satin jacket rather than one of his heavy coats and absently twirling the pendant in his long, elegant fingers. Vinda, dressed in a stylish vest and waist-belt, hat placed in a dramatic angle on her head, had settled further down in the middle. She had denied the place on his right for today, in favour of observing the members of his inner circle. Amused, she noticed how many of them wore Grindelwald’s symbol, either as a necklace or a brooch, openly and for everyone to see._

_The dark wizard and a few of his followers, including her, had returned two days ago from a successful mission in Prague. Two of their spies had been captured by Czechoslovakian Aurors, both holding information that could be very useful in the future and they had managed to infiltrate the Ministry and liberate them. The collected intelligence had led to this meeting.  
Right now, the men and women at this table, apart from Grindelwald, were discussing which countries to target next in order to spread their cause further.   
That was something she deeply respected about the dark Lord: Grindelwald made the decisions but (sometimes) he wanted to hear the opinion of his subjects.   
“We should continue in France.”, stated Buczek with a heavy Polish accent. _

_“The relationship between France and Germany – and Austria – is in ruins since the Great War.”, Krall answered, throwing a quick glance at Grindelwald, “France is not a good idea. It is too soon.”_

_“The United States then.”, Valentina von Hagen, a German half-blood witch proposed and there were a few unbelievable snorts. They didn’t stop her, though: “Our spies from Prague mentioned that Percival Graves has finally taken over the position of Director of the Department of Magical Law enforcement of MACUSA. Let’s strike as long as he still has to settle in. They are vulnerable right now.” She underlined her proposition with a light slap on the table. A few were muttering to their neighbours, but the dark Lord seemed to contemplate her words and the German witch lifted her chin proudly._

_She heard the woman next to her mumbling something about Italy, as another one spoke up and Vinda turned her head towards him: “What about Britain?”.  
She recognized the wizard, though she couldn’t remember his name. He had brown, roguish hair and an arrogant tilt around his lips. His very expensive-looking coat did little to hide muscled arms.   
She frowned slightly. He wasn’t new but he definitely hadn’t served as long as Vinda. _

_Grindelwald’s voice, quiet and cold, came up for the first time since the beginning and anyone who had meant to answer fell immediately silent:_ “Albus Dumbledore _is in Britain, hiding in his castle from_ me.” _The words held the barest hint of something sinister, but Vinda was sure that only she and maybe the other Acolytes heard it. “And as long as he is, the British Isles are guarded.”_

_A smarter man might have noticed the unspoken end of this conversation, but the wizard who proposed the ridiculous idea was obviously ignorant as he spoke pompously: “Then we must destroy his hiding place. Force him out”, he felt elated by the silence of his Master and took it as an encouragement to continue “Once his home is gone, he won’t have another place to retreat to. Let’s destroy Hogwarts.”, he declared._

What a fool! _Vinda though, looking quickly back at Grindelwald to see his reaction._ A fool who is hoping to impress their Master. 

_Grindelwald’s fingers had stopped moving the pendant and it was now hidden protectively in his fist: “Destroy the Hogwarts school?”, Grindelwald repeated softly and Vinda could hear the dangerous tone underlying in his voice. A shiver ran down her back._

_The man rose from his chair and slapped his closed fist over his heart: “My Lord, I will personally cross the ocean and burn Hogwarts to the ground in your name.”, he proclaimed faithfully, eager to prove his eternal loyalty to Gellert Grindelwald._

What an idiot. What an absolute idiot!   
_He reminded Vinda uncomfortably of her late husband, just as witless and preposterous._

_There was a something darkening her Master’s eyes now, cold and unyielding. His left hand was clenched around the pendant, so tight that his knuckles became white, as he slowly raised his wand at the still exhilarated wizard._

_The madman didn’t die. The dark Lord wouldn’t kill immediately and give in to such an impulsive reaction.  
Instead he made a choking sound as he fell down on his knees, reaching for his throat to lift the invisible pressure while thin wounds spread out over his face.   
She was proud to say that she managed to keep her face impassive, but others weren’t so skilled. Some had paled at the display before them, once more reminded of the true danger their leader could be if his wrath was provoked while others were nodding approvingly at the fitting punishment of such bland disrespect._   
This is a spell from the darkest of Magical arts, _Vinda thought interested, looking back at her Master in awe. Terrifying, yes, but impressive. The amount of self-discipline and power that was required for such a spell was indeed most impressive._

 _Meanwhile, Grindelwald had comfortably leaned back in chair, his hands folded over his wand in his lab and the pendant once more safely hidden in his breast-pocket.  
Despite the strangled sounds of the wizard on the ground, his quiet voice seemed to boom: “The conflict between France and Germany due to the contract of Versailles is in the Muggle-world, not in the magical one. However, I agree that we should take care of MACUSA first.”  
As soon as the first words left his mouth, every person around the table was once more drawn to him: “A new group has formed in the United States that call themselves the_ The New Salem Philanthropic Society _or_ Second Salemers.”  
 _Disgusted noises arose from his devotees and more than a few expressed their indignation to their neighbours with outraged hand-gestures.  
The gurgling man tried to get their attention as he was now lying with his back on the floor, but his sounds became more quiet with the seconds. He was passing out.   
Grindelwald’s lips formed a thin smile: “Yes, my friends. Why the leaders of MACUSA would allow such a thing is beyond me. Their infatuation with the Statute of Secrecy endangers all our American brothers and sisters.”_

 _Approving shouts were exclaimed and Grindelwald paused for a moment to let them decay: “Also, as we all know, the Americans have rather…backward laws regarding the separation between Muggles and the Magical Community. Many are unhappy with that. Therefore, I agree_ mit dem Fräulein von Hagen, _MACUSA is our priority.”_

_There must be another reason, Vinda concluded while the others gave their consent and praised their Master’s foresight. Grindelwalds’ arguments were reasonable, but her instincts told her that there was something else in America that had captured the interest of the dark wizard.  
She remembered the figure of her Master which she had seen not so long ago, exhausted by an intense vision. He had Seen something. Something that was going to happen in the States or even more likely, he’d found something that might help them defeat Dumbledore._

Not likely - definitely! It is the most logical explanation.   
_Grindelwald’s head turned slightly to look at her, and though her Occlumentic shields were risen to perfection, he smirked knowingly at her._

_“Carrow, MacDuff.”, he barked when the voices had silenced once more, ”Contact our American agents. Tell them to find out everything about Percival Graves there is. I want to know if the possibility exists to convince him to join our glorious cause.” The two Acolytes nodded and hurried out of the room, probably to get a port-key._

_Grindelwald looked at the followers left: “Then it is settled. You are dismissed.”_

_The dark Lord rose from his chair and with him, everyone else did. He walked majestically around the table and stepped carelessly over the unconscious man on the floor before he disappeared through the door._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Spring, 1926, Graves’ mansion, New York, United States of America** _

_“I must admit, I do like his choice of attire.”, Grindelwald said, picking at the multiple layers of clothing. The most wanted wizard in Europe was currently looking into the adorned mirror in the living room of a huge, elegant mansion located in New York, wearing the face of the director of Magical Security of MACUSA._

_Vinda nodded: “It is very fashionable indeed. Though I don’t understand why you added the scorpion pins. Graves didn’t wear them, if I recall correctly, and I always thought of a dragon as your associated animal.”_

_Grindelwald turned around to face her: “A little mockery on my part. After I reveal my true identity, Picquery shall her rip hair out for not noticing sooner and scorpions are known for being poisonous little creatures.”_

_Vidna snorted quietly but didn’t say anything. The dark Lord wouldn’t be discovered and if he wanted to laugh in silence at the president, so be it. He had to stay for the coming months in this dreadful city in an even more dreadful country, after all._

_“And Graves fought like a scorpion.”, she added smirking._

_Grindelwald chuckled quietly: “That he did.”, he stepped away from the mirror, towards a picture of the real Graves receiving his certificate at the Auror Graduation-ceremony, “Too bad he wasn’t ready to reconsider his ideals.”_

_Vinda hummed in agreement. Graves had proven himself to be a very powerful wizard who had a lot of influence. He would have made a valuable addition. But he had decided to rather fight the dark Lord and lose his freedom as a consequence. The ex-Auror was currently in the deepest cell in Nurmengard where he could enjoy his first vacation in years.  
She smiled at the memory. Graves could curse them as much as he wanted, in the end Grindelwald had still gotten what he came for.   
Her eyes followed her Master’s movements while he straightened his collar until she noticed something glittering beneath Graves’ heavy coat.   
The pendant.   
“Maître…”, she cleared her throat, unsure how she should approach this topic without arousing his wrath. _

_“Yes, Rosier?”, Grindelwald answered distracted._

_“Maître, I realize that you have decided to take your…jewel with you.”_

_Grindelwald’s fingers stopped working and he regarded her coolly. No matter what face he wore, that stare would always be frightening. ”Yes. What is the reason of its mentioning?”_

_She tried to keep her face impassive: “Wouldn’t it be wiser to leave it at Nurmengard where it is safe in case-”, she struggled to find the right words. The dark Lord wouldn’t take it kindly if she proposed the possibility that he might be caught: “In case your true identity will be revealed sooner than planned.”, she finished._

_Grindelwald dropped Graves’ hands to his sides and he took a menacing step forward: “I will not be parted from it.”  
Vinda pressed her lips together: “Please consider. Nurmengard is one of the safest places on earth and-“_

_“Rosier!”, Graves’ deep voice barked and she fell silent.  
“If the very unlikely situation occurs and I do get discovered, not to mention captured, then this pendant is one of the things that will keep me safe. Should it be taken from me, I will get it back.” _

_The first lieutenant nodded stiffly. That she didn’t doubt._

This pendant will keep me safe.

_The witch wondered why._

_She inhaled deeply: ”Very well, then”.  
She straightened and clasped her hands behind her back: “Bon courage, Maître!”, her voice was strong, impassive and not betraying the hint of worry she felt for letting her Master enter the lion’s pit on his own.   
Grindelwalds’ eyes seemed to soften for a moment and he reached for a hairbrush that was lying on the commode: “Thank you, Vinda. My orders are clear. You are in charge until I return.”  
With that he passed her the object. She took it and immediately felt the pull of the portkey whisking her away._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**The night after the rally in Paris, 1927, War Room of Nurmengard, Austrian Alps** _

_The atmosphere in Nurmengard after the rally was one of celebration.  
They had returned as victors, struck a massive blow to their enemies’ forces and brought more followers, powerful witches and wizards, with them back to the castle. Grindelwald’s name was whispered like a prayer in all corners. _

_The dark Lord and his seven Acolytes, including the newly recruited Queenie Goldstein, were in the war room of Nurmengard (the massive table where they usually sat by had vanished). Grindelwald stood in front of the large windows, tall and charismatic, his lips forming a charming smile. He looked much like the first time Vinda had met him in Lyon.  
He had placed his left hand on the shoulder of the young Obscurial next to him, whose position was hunched and his dark eyes were cast down on the ground. His right hand, though, was firmly holding a black, smooth wand.   
He introduced the boy as Aurelius, but reprimanded them to continue to address him as Credence Barebone. Only his inner circle was allowed to know the boy’s given name yet.   
However, that didn’t stop Grindelwald to declare it the boy’s destiny to defeat the threat that was Albus Dumbledore._

_While speaking, Grindelwald’s fingers moved to the right spot over his heart and the seductive expression on his face froze. Vinda frowned and while everyone continued to cheer, she squinted her eyes and stilled after she realized: The pendant was gone.  
The pendant that her Master had carried with him since 1904 – and most certainly before -, that had never left his presence in all the years she had served him was gone.   
Grindelwald’s hand twitched and fell to his side again. Anxiously, Vinda waited for his reaction but when the cheers had quieted down again, her Master continued to speak with the same, strong voice. His features had lost its charm and been replaced by a coldness that could luckily be confused with determination. _

_As soon as he had finished, he turned around and left without giving further instructions. Vinda cursed inwardly. “MacDuff, Nigel, make sure that every new recruit is referred to a position”, she ordered harshly, and they scurried away, unsure of what had just happened. “Goldstein”, she composed herself forcefully, not wanting to agitate the sensitive witch: “Please take Credence to his room. Do you know where it is?”_

_The pretty witch nodded, her innocent eyes wide, and she pranced to the confused looking boy._

_With a few, quick commands, their little gathering was disassembled._

_Vinda hurried down the corridors until she stood at the entry to Grindelwald’s chambers. She paused for a few seconds and listened but there was nothing to be heard.  
Taking a few deep breaths she raised her fist to knock on the wooden door but before she could, it was already opened. _

_Grindelwald stood in the dark door frame. He didn’t look dishevelled. His attire was still impeccable and his face showed nothing of the storm she would have anticipated. The only thing out of place was his normally so carefully styled hair which looked ruffled, as if he had driven his hand multiple times through it. His silhouette didn’t allow her to look at the room behind him._

_“The assembly has dissolved. The Obscurial is back in his room - Goldstein has taken him there.”, she managed to inform with a nearly impassive voice._

_Grindelwald stared at her, mis-matched eyes dark and glittering.  
“Send ten of my men to Paris, immediately.”, he whispered. _

_She swallowed but didn’t dare to say anything. International Aurors would be swarming the tomb by now, looking for any trace that might be left.  
“I will tell them to search for a jewel.”, she answered regardless, showing him that he didn’t have to say it out loud. _

_“No.”, Grindelwald’s voice fluctuated slightly and he in- and exhaled deeply. “No”, he said again, this time unwavering. “Tell them to look for a vial that has been called into existence by blood magic. ”  
With that he closed the door again. Vinda blinked._

Blood magic.

_Well, that would certainly make it more complicated. You couldn’t simply speak Accio and it would come flying towards you. No, blood rituals were an ancient form of magic, more powerful than spells and potions, unbreakable, unyielding.  
Deep in thoughts, she turned around and left her Master alone. _

_Vinda sent ten men to Paris. They were looking for two nights before she called them back._

 

_Once again, she stood in front of her Masters’ chambers and knocked on his door.  
When she heard a quiet “enter” she opened it and stepped in.  
Grindelwald was sitting in one of the two armchairs, near the window-front who provided a spectacular view over the mountains and the nearby lake, looking outside.   
“Have they found it?”, he asked without moving._

_She restrained herself from fidgeting: “Non.”_

_Grindelwald didn’t scream. He didn’t curse and he didn’t raise his wand to let her feel his wrath. The only indicator that he had heard her were his fists clenching on the armrests.  
“Have they found anything?”, he asked again. _

_“Oui.”, she answered and approached him._

_Finally, Grindelwald turned his head and unclenched his right fist to raise his palm. Three short, black hairs fell into it.  
Her Master was a smart man. So, he recognized it immediately: Fur. Animal hair._

_“Scamander.”, he whispered with so much venom in his voice, that Vinda took a step back: “If you command it, I can send the men out to get that peasant. They will snatch him away and bring it back with him.”, she proposed coldly. That foolish Englishman wouldn’t know what hit him.  
Grindelwald continued to stare at the hairs in his hands as if they could make Scamander appear in his room.   
It took a while for him to answer: “No.”_

_Vinda frowned, hoping for an explanation, which, to her surprise, she received:  
“That would be fruitless. It is no longer with that pest of a man.”_

_Grindelwald made a horse, chuckling sound, something desperate creeping into his eyes. “No, he doesn’t have it anymore. It has been brought to the one place I cannot reach, I am sure.”  
Vinda’s throat went dry. Swallowing a few times, she clarified: “Hogwarts.”  
Grindelwald closed his hand around the hairs, fury burying itself into the harsh lines of his face. _

_“Hogwarts.”, he confirmed._

_A strong smell entered the air and there was smoke coming from his fist.  
After a few seconds he lowly mumbled: “He has it now.”_

Scamander?

_“He must be celebrating”, Grindelwald continued without looking at her. “Absolutely delighted. Now, he can finally free himself from me.”_

Is he talking about Scamander?

_Vinda heard the bitterness in his words.  
Honestly, she was confused. Of course, Grindelwald seemed to have a private dispute with the Magizoologist but she had thought that was because he had captured him in New York. In the name of Jeanne d’Arc, he hadn’t performed blood magic with Newton Scamander, had he? He wouldn’t – wouldn’t fancy him or anything like that? Though their encounters always seemed rather personal.   
No, no, it couldn’t be. He was carrying the jewel around since at least 1904, and Scamander would have been what - Nine? Ten? - at that time?   
On the other hand, she didn’t know a lot about Blood Magic. In the last two days, after Grindelwald had told her about the pendant, she had tried to find something about it, but there weren’t any books in the library of Nurmengard and it certainly wasn’t a topic that was taught in school.   
She mentally scolded herself and focused again on the dark wizard: Gridnelwald’s expression was cold but there was something different in his eyes. Something that might be sadness. _

_“Is there anything I can do?”, she asked carefully, almost afraid of the rawness her Master showed.  
Grindelwald twitched as if awoken from a trance and he quickly rearranged his features into a mask of impassiveness, before he rose from his chair, back straight and head high. _

_“There is nothing to do for you. This doesn’t change our plans. Credence will be the one to end the greatest threat to our glorious cause. For the Greater Good.” The words were spoken without a stutter and yet, Vinda couldn’t help but thinking that they sounded as if the dark wizard was trying to convince himself.  
Grindelwald in- and exhaled deeply, in absolute control, and it was clear that the moment of vulnerability was over. He opened his eyes once more and picked up his wand: “And I shall have my vengeance. Scamander will pay a most horrible price.”_

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**1st of June, during the trial of Albus Dumbledore, 1927, Ministry Courtroom, Ministry of Magic, Great Britain** _

“Professor Dumbledore, have you been, and still are, in love with the murderer Gellert Grindelwald?”

_The trial was one of the most exhausting things Vinda had ever witnessed. It was a battle of wits and she must admit that Seraphina Picquery was a witch who knew how to get what she wanted. A skilled leader, even though she was a hypocrite._

_Vinda was sitting next to Grindelwald in the huge courtroom of the British Ministry, both in disguise. Before the trial, she had drunken Polyjuice-potion, containing a single hair of a very pretty, blonde witch (she had been rather picky with whom to choose), while he had transformed himself into a tall, broad man with short, brown hair and eyes.  
One of their sleeper cells had let them in and they had settled on top of the bank rows, where they had the whole room in sight. She had placed herself next to him, though he was still in the German sector and she in the French one.  
They were sitting amongst raging international officials from Ministries all around the world.   
The interrogators, Fawley, the weak Minister of Britain, Travers, one of the most disgusting men she’s ever met and the cunning witch sat on the right side of the hall, behind a heightened table on the right side, so they could look down upon everyone in front of them. _

_And in the center sat Albus Dumbledore, poisoned, surrounded by enemies, bound by magical chains, his magic oppressed and_ utterly _defeated._

“Professor Dumbledore, have you been, and still are, in love with the murderer Gellert Grindelwald?”

 _Next to her, Grindelwald bent forward, lips slightly parted, his hands gripping the hemline of his coat tightly, looking at the wizard before them with an expression that was a mix between uncertainty, hesitance and something akin to yearning._

“Yes.” 

_The answer was steady. Not like before when Dumbledore had tried to force himself to stay silent and admitted her Master’s secrets almost inaudibly, as if there was a possibility that they couldn’t hear them. No, Dumbledore’s response was quiet but determined._

_He did no longer skulk in the shadows, now._

_She heard a sharp exhale of breath next to her and knew that it had to be her Grindelwald, but she couldn’t tear her eyes off the spectacle in front of her, afraid of missing anything.  
There was a second of silence, her own shocked silence, before the President of MACUSA rose and spoke her verdict:_ “Aurors, arrest Mr. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. He is convicted in all charges and additional for former allegation with the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald, conspiracy against the International Statute of Secrecy, the British Ministry of Magic and the Magical Congress of the United States of America and acting as co-perpetrator in the pervasiveness of the so-called cause, the Greater Good ,as well as the crime of performed sodomy. His wand will be destroyed and he is sentenced to life-long imprisonment in the facility of Azkaban.”

Azkaban, _she thought appalled._

_Around them erupted an onslaught of snarl, indignation and demands of justice, as Dumbledores’ shackles were released. Immediately, the professor’s magic attacked his capturers and she could see several of them breaking down due to its power._

_Wizards and witches were rising from their seats and scampering around, arguing hotly with each other and wands were drawn. Aurors hurried towards the centre, splitting when there – half of them trying to subdue Dumbledore, the others trying to bring order. Her eyes fell on Newt Scamander and his Non-Magiqués-friend, followed closely by Goldstein’s sister, as they tried to fight their way through several officials down the rows, yelling incomprehensible words.  
She couldn’t help but admire Scamander’s loyalty.  
Picquery had stepped down from the interrogator’s desk, into the sea of Aurors and politicians in the circle, giving orders right and left with a mighty voice, but it got drowned in the shouts around her. _

_Strangely awed by the pandemonium in front of her, Vinda turned around to look at her Master._

_Grindelwald had risen as well, coat dragging behind him and arms slightly spread.  
He took a step forward, out of the shadows and into plain light for everyone to see, his disguise now doing little to hide his true identity.   
Her breath hitched as she saw the expression on his face: In his mis-matched eyes was a fire burning, unlike anything she had ever seen before, hot and blazing as he looked like a conductor down on the chaos raging beneath him.   
“Vinda.”, he breathed as his eyes followed the figure of Albus Dumbledore, disappearing from the courtroom. Vinda looked hectically around if somebody heard them, while stepping next to him. There was no danger though, as everyone was still occupied with what just happened and nobody paid attention to them.   
She looked at her Master who had his gaze still firmly settled on the people that were swarming in the center of the room, looking like a bunch of insects. Many different emotions were flittering over his face, yet one singular stood out:_

_Triumph_

_“They have just sealed their fate.”_

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**After the trial, 1927, London, Great Britain** _

_Vinda had Grindelwald’s face, marred with fury, dancing behind her eyelids and the words_ “ _ **Find him”**_ _were still ringing in her ears, when she came to London._

_Finding Dumbledore’s location proved to be quite a task. Their spies in the British Ministry hadn’t been able to figure out anything. She had ordered them to try but after one had (foolishly) gotten caught, she had told them to stop. They weren’t important enough in the government._

_The only clue she had was no clue at all. Grindelwald had told her that he had Seen Newt Scamander carrying something uttermost important in a dark alley. But neither he nor she did know if that had anything to do with Dumbledore and there were hundreds of alleys in London. However, he had described it to her as detailed as possible (described because the skull was gone, unfortunately)._

_But she had to begin somewhere and luckily, there was a very plausible option for vision: His brother’s old apartment was in an alley such as described by Grindelwald. The one he had shared with Lestrange. There was no proof and the vision was vague at best but her instincts told her that Theseus Scamander was the right way to start.  
After that, it was mostly luck.  
As a strategic move, she had decided to bring Queenie Goldstein with her when she had come to London (though always careful to stay away from her sister and the Non-Wizard) and, after she had (possibly) identified the alley with Scamander’s old house, started to tail him with her. Queenie was a formidable Legilimens and spied on the older Scamander’s mind while they followed him.   
She was sure that it wouldn’t have worked, if Theseus Scamander wasn’t so completely worn out. There was a tiredness on his features and dark rings under his eyes. The paleness of his skin was almost painful to look at.   
And he was paranoid. He looked around far too often, cast too many security spells and was constantly on guard. It was exactly that which made him sloppy: Be alert for too long and you get inattentive.   
So, the Head-Auror, of the British Ministry didn’t notice them.   
Vinda felt a small wave of genuine pity for the handsome man. On the other hand, it made her last, desperate attempt at getting the Dumbledore’s location maybe possible._

_It wasn’t long until one day the blonde with told her that Theseus Scamander had heard from Travers of the existence of a document and he was going to tell his brother Newt about it._

_The rest was careful planning and proper analysing of behaviour. Remembering Newt Scamander’s reaction during the trial - whose loyalty was unquestionable as she had seen in the Ministry’s courtroom - made it easy to come to the conclusion, that he would try to get the location and so she brought Gunnar Grimmson on board, who had told them of Newt Scamander’s deep disdain for him (Which was not difficult to imagine when she heard him talking about magical creatures). Now they just had to wait until the Magizoologist would break into the British Ministry. The note from Gunnar Grimmson had already been written and the other Acolytes, as well as Queenie and the bounty-hunter, had already received their instructions. Letting the Legilimens meet Scamander was a huge risk, but Grimmson would still be there in case something went wrong. The only thing that could go severely wrong was that Grindelwald’s vision was incorrect and Scamander wouldn’t take the document to his brother’s old living space. Then, it was all over and she wouldn’t be able to return to London, not after Queenie and Grimmson had revealed themselves. They would have to retreat very fast.  
And she would have failed. _

_Vinda decided not to participate neither at the confrontation, nor the search for the document. She had already been in London for too long and she wasn’t sure if somebody hadn’t discovered her. So, she had returned to their hide-out in the ugly cottage, near the English coast, and waited until they brought her the document._

_Quite nervously._

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_When she gave Grindelwald Dumbledore’s location a few hours later, she felt as she had just secured her place by his side for all of eternity. The words were unspoken, and there would never be an official statement made, but she simply knew as the dark Lord opened the envelope._

_She had accompanied him for a long time now, managed to work her way up the ranks of his army, had been one of the very first ones to hear of his idea, his vision, even if she hadn’t joined him right away.  
Vinda dared to say that she knew him better than his other Acolytes, was a little closer to him. _

_She had stepped into a circle of blue fire for him and emerged unharmed._

_Yes, Gellert Grindelwald had, without a doubt, her undying loyalty._

_Which was why her blood was curling in anticipation at Grindelwald’s battle cry: “We shall return to the Continent.”_

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**13th of June, 2 am, shortly after recent developments,  
Near the Durmstrang Institute, Somewhere far in Northern Europe** _

Vinda remembers the question she had asked herself many years ago: “What would it be like – to be loved by Gellert Grindelwald?”

For a while, during the early years of their acquaintance, she had thought that Grindelwald will maybe fall in love with her. She is beautiful, exceptionally clever, skilled and of high status in the magical community. But he had never shown any indication and while her ego was hurt at first, she had been eventually glad. She deeply respected him – and she liked to believe that the respect was mutual.   
After that had come a time where she had honestly doubted if Grindelwald would allow himself to love anybody – his commitment to The Greater Good seemed always too strong. He had always presented himself as an agent of their cause, not willing to rest until wizardkind is allowed to live in freedom once more.   
And then, he had mentioned how there is no-one worthy of him. Very arrogantly, perhaps, but he is still right. There had never been anyone she could think of, who is just as powerful, just as brilliant and just as fierce as the dark Lord himself. 

Today, she had gotten her answer: what it would be liked to be loved by Gellert Grindelwald. 

_Absolute. Possessive. Unconditional._

They are currently in the far north of Europe. She doesn’t know where exactly, Grindelwald has kept that secret for himself, but one can see the illuminated silhouette of the Durmstrang Institute. The castle is surrounded by mountains, forests and there is even a lake shimmering in dark colours. It reminds her of Nurmengard, only that Grindelwald’s base is built on a high mountain. 

_But it is clear where he got his inspiration from._

Seraphina Picquery is truly a devious woman. Of all the places to imprison Dumbledore, she chose a location near Grindelwald’s old school; A place her Master would never visit voluntarily. After all, one of the few facts that are known about Grindelwald is that he despises Durmstrang for his expulsion and has avoided it since. A place of failure that he would be too proud to return to. 

_Very clever._

They had come here immediately after she had given Grindelwald the paper with Dumbledore’s location, which is in the middle of the night when everything is still dark. Portkeyes had allowed them to travel as close to the location as possible without actually drawing any attention to them but it was still outside the magical barriers. When she had asked her Master, very carefully and quietly, how he intended to get through them, he had answered coldly that, as Dumbledore had mentioned at the trial, he had carved his sign and with it _his magic_ into one of the walls of the institute. Part of the ancient spells surrounding the castle and the wide area area obeyed _him_ now. The barriers wouldn’t be a problem. 

And he was proven right. Half an hour later, they marched right through it and towards the rocky region. Where they are standing now is an ideal place to build a holding facility in a very short time. It is far offside the actual schoolground and has a lot of space but is still within the large territory that is enchanted with the magical shield-barriers that are protecting the institute; no-one lives around here and it doesn’t disrupt the school’s daily routine. She is fairly certain that you can’t even see this place from the castle thanks to the mountainous natural environment and more - probably hundreds of - security spells.   
Fog is surrounding them, which can be a good thing or a bad thing. Good, because it will make it so much more difficult for anyone to see them and bad, because she is fairly certain that it is not natural.   
It is impossible to see much anyway, but Vinda believes to recognize the shapes of a gate, imbedded in a huge rock before them. She squints her eyes. The entry of Dumbledore’s prison must be in the rock itself, which means that the former professor is kept under the earth. It is rather cold up here, even though it is summer, and the closer they get to the entry, the cooler it becomes. She gets the impression, that Dumbledore’s prison might be guarded by something other than only Aurors.  
A shiver runs down her back which is not due to the cold. 

Gellert Grindelwald is marching directly towards the gate, wand raised and with determined steps. He is wearing a long, heavy, midnight blue coat that wallows around his feet and an upper layer that is connected by a thin silver chain around his neck. He doesn’t seem bothered by the increasing cold. 

Vinda refuses to show anything like fear and so she keeps her face impassive as she walks directly behind him, on his right side. Abernathy, Carrow and Krafft as well as about ten other followers hurry after them, all of them more or less grim and occasionally nervously looking around.   
Grindelwald is still as stone as he removes one spell surrounding the rock after another. She quickly asks herself if that doesn’t raise some kind of warning spell for the Aurors inside but she trusted her Master to be skilled enough and even if it did, it wouldn’t make much difference anyway anymore.   
When they are not far from the gate, she can see something out of the corner of her eye: dark shadows floating towards them.

_Dementors!_

_”Maître-“_ , she starts but Grindelwald has already swished his wand at the horrible creatures before them.  
 _“Expecto Patronum”_ , he almost whispers and something huge illuminates the fog around them. She doesn’t recognize it - it is gone too quickly - but it is powerful and repels the creatures immediately.   
Surprised she stares at the empty space where the creatures had been seconds ago and then at Grindelwald, whose expression has turned from angry to furious as he resumes his path. 

She exhales deeply as she falls into line again: A patronus is the only thing she had never been able to produce and judging the faces of her fellow devotees, they have problems as well.   
Her lips curl slightly in displeasure as they finally reach the gate. 

_“Expulso”_ , the dark Lord grinds through his teeth when he is only a few steps afar, his German accent more prominent than usual and giving the spell a hard note. His steps do not waver as he blows up the door and marches right through it, while dust and stones still rain down from the ceiling. 

_Obviously, her Master has been provoked enough to not care about subtlety anymore_ , Vinda thinks drily as she hurries after him, a bit more careful of the material coming from above.  
Two Aurors, who had probably been guarding the gate, had paid the price immediately and got caught in the explosion. She can see their still bodies under a rubble of rocks, one of them bleeding on the forehead. They don’t stop to check if they are dead.   
Torches are lined up the long corridor in front of them. The walls are made of stone and Vinda finds herself correct in her assumption, that the prison has been quickly carved into the rock. The tunnel looks eroded and very soon they meet two other Aurors who function as guards of this corridor.  
They get hilariously easy defeated by two quick sharp movements of Grindelwald’s wand. All in all, he is a picture of grace as he marches on. 

Soon, they find themselves at the end of the corridor, where it splits into another three.  
The dark Lord’s face becomes a mask of disdain as he orders with a cold voice: “Abernathy, Rosier, you take the left one. Carrow, Krafft, take the right one! You-“, he gestures at the rest. “Split and go with them. I’ll take the middle one.”

If Vinda was a nicer woman, she would maybe feel pity for the Aurors who are about to encounter Grindelwald’s wrath. Their Master will do excellently on his own.   
She starts walking down the left corridor, her soldiers on her tail and Abernathy to her right. A few guards encounter them soon and some of the followers stay behind to duel them, while the others carry on.   
The corridor splits again and they divide themselves into groups of two and three. Vinda takes Abernathy with her. At one point, a blaring starts ringing through the corridor that indicates that someone finally managed to turn on their alarm system. However, nobody comes after the two Acolytes and Vinda is quite sure that they are occupied with their men and women who stayed back. 

While they walk in silence (except for the loud, annoying rhythmic sound that was stopped at one point again) Vinda lost herself in her own thoughts.  
When she had discovered that Dumbledore is the one to possess part of the blood in Grindelwald’s pendant, a blood pact, she hadn’t been surprised. She hadn’t thought about it, which made her very angry and quite frustrated with herself, but she wasn’t necessarily surprised.

She snorts and Abernathy looks confused at her, but she pays him no attention. 

Vinda should have known that Gellert Grindelwald would settle for no-one less but the best. No-one less than the most brilliant and the most powerful wizard apart from him and Dumbledore is after all rumoured to be her Master’s equal. The only one who could maybe even defeat him (which is a ridiculous assumption).   
She shakes her head slightly.   
The ministries shouldn’t count on Dumbeldore doing _anything_ for them in the near future, she muses. 

They have reached the end of the tunnel. A door is to their right, magically locked of course but not difficult to destroy with Abernathy’s knowledge of the American security. With a numb feeling, she enters the cell, closely followed by Abernathy and looks down at a huddled figure. 

Albus Dumbledore is looking nothing like the greatness that is said after him now.   
The professor is lying on the ground, still and unmoving. He is not shackled, yet, his delicate wrists are captured within cursed bracelets, hieroglyphs decorating it in a mock beauty, that are most likely damping his magic completely. The ridiculous purple suit is torn apart and providing no protection against the icy cold.   
His cheeks are hollow and he has become incredibly thin, so much that Vinda can recognize his collarbone looking pointily out of his shirt.

Of course, he probably didn’t eat. Most likely didn’t drink either. He didn’t want to take any more _Veritaserum_.

She slowly walks around him and can’t stop herself from taking a step back as she sees his face. Dumbledore’s eyes are halfway-open but unseeing as they stare into the emptiness of the room. The blue colour is dimmed and for a moment, a horrible moment, she fears that the Aurors might have spoken the Unforgivable Curse of Death when they realized that Grindelwald had arrived in their facility. 

She sharply turns around. 

“Abernathy, fetch the dark Lord, _immediately_!”, she orders and the man, who looks pale as a ghost, flees the cell with hurried steps. 

Stone-faced, she looks at Dumbledore again, while crouching down next to him. She doesn’t dare to touch him but puts her hand over his lips and exhales in relief as she feels the soft puffs of air against her fingers.   
He isn’t dead. She doesn’t want to imagine what would have happened then. 

The witch continues to analyse the man in front of her. He isn’t dead but he seems unconscious.   
_There are worse fates than death, Miss Rosier. Have you ever heard of the kiss of the Dementor?_ , the brittle voice of her DADA-teacher at Beauxbatonxs echoes in her mind and she has to swallow. 

_Surely, Picquery wouldn’t go that far?_

She stares for a few long minutes at the ill-looking man, not quite sure what to do, until she can hear determined steps coming towards this place. She instantly straightens again, standing up seconds before Grindelwald appears in the doorframe.   
Respectfully she takes a few steps back but the dark Lord doesn’t acknowledge her and strides next to the unconscious wizard on the ground, while Abernathy stands awkwardly in the entry, mouth slightly parted at the display in front of him.

“Albus? Albus, can you hear me?”, the darkest Magician of their age asks composed but with an urgent undertone.   
When the former Professor gives no reaction, Grindelwald starts to mumble a few ancient spells, that don’t sound like Latin.   
After a few moments, Dumbledore blinks his eyes to complete openness, pupils blown wide and almost to the edge: “I-“ he coughs. “My students?”, he rasps, voice incredibly hoarse. 

Vinda almost rolls her eyes then. Leave it to Dumbledore to ask for his students before anything else. 

_Weak!_

Not that she would ever say that out loud. Especially not in the dark Lord’s presence.   
Grindelwald frowns but it doesn’t overshadow the relief on his features: “They are safe. Hogwarts is safe. Why would you assume that?”  
But Dumbledore doesn’t answer that. Instead he coughs again with much effort. His throat must be without a doubt bone-dry and she sees that his eyes keep rolling back: “My students, they-“  
The fog in the blue depths clears a bit and only now Dumbledore seems to realize who is holding him in his arms.

“Gell-ert?”, he asks, eyes inhumanly wide and blinking up at him. Grindelwald doesn’t respond but inhales sharply. 

“Am- am I-?”,

The former professor seems disoriented, judging his eyes.  
 _What have they done to you?_ , she frowns.  
The dark wizard probably asks himself the same question as he curses and his grip on the other wizard tightens. “Diese verdammten- Albus I am taking you to Nurmengard-“

“Gellert, I am so, so sorry.” Dumbledore interrupts him with a soft voice and Vinda listens up.   
She cannot see Grindelwald’s face but he has gone completely motionless.

“Albus, the pendant, is it here?”, he says, not responding to Dumbledore’s statement, but sounding breathless nonetheless.   
Dumbledore blinks again slowly before he closes his eyes once more. 

“Albus! Verdammt! Albus, I am taking you to Nurmengard, is that alright? _Verdammt!”_

Dumbledore has passed out again. 

Gellert Grindelwald pushes his forehead against the one of the man in his arms and starts mumbling feverishly in a cold voice: “They will die for this. I’ll burn the Ministry to the ground. Ich werde MACUSA und das Ministerium bis auf den letzten Stein niederbrennen - _Das schwöre ich, bei Mephistopheles!_ They will die for this.”

Vinda feels fear and anticipation equally curling in her blood as she looks at Abernathy’s face, who in turn looks like a spooked squirrel.   
She doesn’t dare to remind their Master of the delicate position they’re in and interrupt the reunion, but luckily, Grindelwald seems to collect himself quickly and reaches for an object, a necklace with his symbol on it, in one his pockets and enchants the body in his arms with a flick of his wand, so that he can lift him up easily.   
Holding the necklace, a portkey, in his right hand, he looks up at her. “Reinforcement will arrive soon.”, however, he doesn’t seem particularly concerned.   
He steps away, near the entrance to gain enough space for the using of the portkey. “Rosier!”  
She straightens and claps her hands behind her back, awaiting his orders.

“Destroy this facility.”

The barest hint of a smirk forms on her pretty lips: “ _Avec plaisir_ , Monsieur Grindelwald.”

The portkey in Grindelwald’s hand glows shorty in a gentle, blue light and the dark Lord vanishes into thin air, arms still tightly around the Professor. Apparently, getting out wasn’t a problem.  
Without looking back, she exits the cell and enhances her voice magically with a Sonorus.

_“Gather at the entry.”_

Along with Abernathy, they soon leave the maze behind and feel the fresh air that comes through the blown-up entry.  
Their fellow wizards are waiting there, some of them pressing their wands against the temple of kneeling Aurors in front of them.   
Vinda stands in front of them, chin high and Abernathy behind her. The Aurors look at her with grim expressions, loyal and ready to defy them to death. But she can see a spark of anguish in their eyes.

Grindelwald’s second-in-command can’t suppress a smirk.   
She waits for a few seconds, enjoying the anticipation of her subjects and the fear of their captives, before she commands:

_“Détruisez tout!”_

 

 

 

 

_**Translations:** _

German:   
Diese Verdammten-: Those damned-  
Verdammt: Damn it!  
Ich werde MACUSA und das Ministerium bis auf den letzten Stein niederbrennen - Das schwöre ich, bei Mephistopheles!: I will burn down MACUSA and the British Ministry to its last stone - This I swear, in the name of Mephistopheles.   
Als ob sie aus den Flammen eines Feuers empor gestiegen wären: As if they had stepped out of the flames of a fire

French:   
Un idiot insupportable - An insufferable idiot  
Avec Plaisir - With pleasure  
Détruisez tout! - Destroy everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats! You finished it.^^
> 
> Just a few quick things:   
> 1.) None of the Aurors died. They have been brought to Nurmengard, just like Graves.   
> 2.)I have no idea about Vinda's sexuality. I know that a lot of people like to imagine her as lesbian. To me, it could be both. In this chapter, it is not really addressed (or at least I tried to write it like that - it should be up to the reader). There is a subtle attraction to Grindelwald, but it might be platonic. Like I said, it is up to the reader.   
> 3.)He had the vision in the second chapter, in case someone doesn’t remember:)
> 
> IMPORTANT: So, I need your opinion. This story will be finished soon and I have realized, that I wrote a lot of this story neither in Dumbledore's nor in Grindelwald's point-of-view. So, I have decided that I will rewrite a scene as a Bonus-chapter at the End of this story (in case anybody is interested, of course) in Grindelwald's POV and you can decide which one: The trial in Grindelwald's POV or the confrontation with Travers in Grindelwald's POV. (Joker: The trial from Vinda's POV).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. The Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to leave this here....
> 
> (Thank you so much for over 600 Kudos!!! I am really happy that my story appeals to you and I hope that this chapter will as well.)

_10th of June, Dumbledore’s prison, Near the Durmstrang Institute, Somewhere far in Northern Europe_

_Albus slowly lifted his head to meet the brooding gaze of his daily interrogators.  
For one, a stern-looking Auror who reminded him aesthetically of Percival Graves: Tall, broad-shouldered and grim. The man was always dressed in a dark grey, heavy coat, held together by golden buttons. The emblem of MACUSA was stitched on the spot above his heart and he wore it proudly. Behind him stood a British Auror. He was smaller than the American, but more muscular and bulkier. A tattoo peeked out from the right sleeve of his maroon suit and he had a bushy beard and dark eyes.   
They had never told Albus their names so he called them just_ Briton _and_ American _in his mind._

_The room he was held in gave no indication of where they might be right now.  
It was plain stone, no windows. The light was provided by torches attached to the wall that illuminated automatically whenever the interrogators entered to question him and extinguished when they left.   
He was sitting (once more) on a hard metal-chair, though not bound to it this time. His wrists were caught in bracelets, similar to those Travers had forced on him in Hogwarts, though their purpose was not simply to admonitor him, but to suppress his magic entirely - and they did a formidable job, much to his displeasure. He wasn’t sure what kind of metal they had used but he was almost certain that it was from Egypt, cursed by a foreign spell, ancient and very, very powerful. Also, quite expensive probably but then again, Picquery hadn’t seemed as if she was taking risks anymore.  
There were very few things that could be truly dangerous to him and unfortunately, they were part of those. _

_The -former- professor wasn’t sure when they had put them on his wrists but most likely when he was still at the Ministry, unconscious after being hit by multiple spells. They wouldn’t have risked his transport without the highest form of precaution and simple paralysis obviously hadn’t worked the last time - with Gellert._

_Gellert._

_He mustn’t think of him._

_Albus sighed inaudibly and restrained himself from tapping his fingers. A hot, seething anger had been brewing in his veins for the entire time now he was at this place - He didn’t know how long he had already been here.  
He also didn’t know where exactly here was. All he knew was that it was icy cold – the wizard was constantly shivering.   
Again, he focused on the two Aurors. They hadn’t done anything in the past few minutes and quite frankly, it gave him an anxious feeling. He_ hated _being powerless._

_The door to his cell opened and his eyes widened when he saw Seraphina Picquery herself entering the room.  
The Madam President had not come to visit before. Neither had Travers, thank Merlin for that small mercy. He was sure that his sanity couldn’t survive one more minute close to such obnoxiousness.   
But having the head of MACUSA herself here couldn’t be a good thing either. _

_American turned around: “Ma’am!”  
Picquery nodded: “Let me speak with him.”  
The two Aurors silently left, the door falling shut with a loud, crushing noise behind them. _

_Picquery and Albus eyed each other for a few long moments, neither willing to give the other any form of insight.  
Finally, she started: “You have refused to drink. You denied any food that was given to you and you resisted any form of magical assault.”  
Dumbledore only stared coolly at her. He would never submit his body to any substance provided by any Ministry ever again and their magic wasn’t that difficult to defy.   
The President sighed and conjured a chair with a quick flick of her wand to settle down in front of him, now on eye-level: “I can understand, of course. The_ Veritaserum _must have been an unpleasant experience.”_

_He continued to stay silent, not willing to give her the satisfaction and agree.  
Though it definitely had been.   
The Madam President quickly searched his face for a reaction but failed: “I will ask one last time before I permit my Aurors to use more extreme methods.”  
Unforgivable curses, that is. The Madam President couldn’t say it out loud, of course, but Albus already was already aware.   
He almost rubbed his forehead in annoyance: “Please, Madam President, would you kindly get to the point? My cell might be quite lonely but that doesn’t mean that I’d prefer to spend my time in your company.”_

_If she was insulted, she didn’t show and instead calmly asked: “Where is the blood pact?”  
He had already expected this. It was the question he was asked first, every single day since he had been taken here after all. _

_“In a place that only emerges for those who need it the most.” The former Professor answered and enjoyed the annoyed glimmer that appeared in her eyes._

_“Disobliging as always. Alright. Do you have any idea where Grindelwalds’ headquarters might be?”_

_Albus can’t help but let out a huff of laughter: “Madam President, you should have already realized by now that I, as I have already told your colleagues multiple times over the last few days, do not intend to give you any more information about Gellert Grindelwald.”_

_“So, you do know?”, Picuery asked, ignoring his statement._

_He lifted an eyebrow and gave her his best expression of a teacher that is disappointed with a student’s homework: “I had the assumption that Travers was the oblivious one.”_

_Again, Picquery’s face stayed carefully neutral but there was something flashing in the dark orbs of her eyes._

_“I’d consider a reduced sentence, Mr. Dumbledore, if you cooperated.”, she says after a few moments, calm and collected._

_Albus looks at her with disdain: “And then what, Madam President? My reputation is_ ruined, _I will never be able to teach at Hogwarts ever again. And after your most disgusting interrogation-methods, you cannot possibly expect from me to work for the government?”_

_The witch didn’t hesitate: “I could send you into exile instead of Azkaban. Maybe a nice little island with books and a comfortable house - Supervised, of course.  
If you don’t cooperate now, the interrogation will continue and I will give my Aurors the permission to intensify their methods and after British Law, Travers will authorize the transport of a Dementor to you.”_

To suck my soul out. 

_He had to swallow at that thought. A brief image of his father, as he had imagined him as a young boy, with an empty gaze and fallen features flashed behind his eyelids.  
For a moment - full of self-loathing - he considered it. It was truly tempting to escape a fate like that.   
But a life in solitude on an island with the knowledge that Gellert wasn’t in the realm of the living anymore?  
In the end, the decision shouldn’t be so easy. _

_He lifted his chin: “My answer stays the same as it already has in the Ministry.”_

_Finally, the annoyed glimmer in her eyes stretched out over her face and Albus congratulated himself. She tapped her wand a few times against her knee, as if she was appealed to simply try and curse him herself, though she should know that it was fruitless. American and Briton had already tried every spell to make him talk and it had been quite amusing to see their faces when he had resisted them every time._

_“Tell me, Mr. Dumbledore, is he worth it?”, the clear voice of the President brought him back._

_Albus tilted his head, symbolizing her to go on._

_“You have indicated that Gellert Grindelwald has never reciprocated your feelings, even worse: Used them to his advantage.”, the President said softly, sympathetic._

_He pressed his jaw together, but refused to answer._

_“I don’t believe that you are a man who enjoys murder, neither are you someone who despises No-Maj’s. So why do you love him, as you proclaim? Are you sure that you do not simply love a shadow – the phantom of a boy you have met twenty-eight years ago? Why do you still protect him?”_

_Oh, she is_ good! _But Albus already knew that and he was prepared for it. And this time, there was no poison running through his veins and conducting his tongue._

_“Have you by any chance ever heard of the Mirror of Erised?”, he asked her without any warmth._

_Unsurprisingly, she shook her head. He hadn’t expected anything different._

_“It is a mirror that shows one’s deepest and most desperate desires. I have asked myself these exact questions that you have just posed many times over the last few years. After Travers came to interrogate me at Hogwarts, I looked into the mirror and you can probably imagine now what I saw: Gellert. Just as he is today. Brilliant, powerful and determined. My heart’s desire hasn’t changed, but grown – from a boy to a man.”_

_Piqcuery couldn’t prevent a slightly disgusted expression, however she didn’t give up: “But why guard his secrets when he does not care about you?”_

_Albus decided to lecture her: “Love is a very powerful thing, I’m afraid. Much more so than any spell.”_

_There was a flash of frustration flitting over her face before it turned once more into a cold mask: “Then I will permit my Aurors to upgrade their methods._

_Albus nodded politely: “And I will be ready to endure them, just as I have until now.” He leaned back in his chair and observed her thoughtfully; then he let out a quiet, dry chuckle: “You two are quite similar in some regards, actually.”_

_Picquery narrowed her eyes and he explained: “Both of you will fight with any means necessary for what you believe is right. Both of you are talented in the art of manipulation and rhetorically skilled. And both of you are ready to overstep certain_ boundaries – _in the name of_ the Greater Good.”

_The Presidents’ eyes lightened up with fury and Albus restrained himself from smirking. How the tables have turned._

_“If you are implying that I share traits of behaviourism with Gellert Grindelwald-“_

_“That is_ exactly _what I am implying.”, he provoked her._

_The President exhaled deeply and tensed, if unintentional or on purpose is unclear to him. She blinked a few times, composing herself, and gave him a thin smile: “So, this is your true face.”_

_Dumbledore simply folded his hands in his lap and patiently waited for her to continue._

_“Now I can see why you used to get along with Grindelwald so well.”_

_He returned the same, thin smile. “Like a cauldron of fire, some would say.”_

_Her nostrils flared and she opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupts her. “Madam President, after your little public display, I hold nothing but disdain for you or the government. You cannot have come here,_ seriously _thinking that I would_ willingly _cooperate?”_

_She didn’t answer and he shook his head, almost pityingly. He tapped his fingers a few times, before he spoke more resigned: “I like to believe that, in given time, I would have been ready to face him.”, he shrugged, “I guess now we will never know.”_

_She shook her head in disbelief, her frustration barely restrained: “Grindelwald is a murderer.”_

_“So am I. So is Theseus Scamander. So is Jacob Kowalski, who is a better man than the two of us combined. We all fought in the War.”_

_“And Grindelwald wants to start a new one. You can still help us defeat him.”, she urged him once more._

_He gave her a kind, but patronizing smile: “I will not. There are two sides in this affair, Picquery, and yours has been absolutely degrading.”_

_She clicked her tongue: “We will find out.”_

_A short, ironic laugh escaped him: “Go ahead and try, by all means. I am afraid that you will soon learn that it is a Sysphean task: Doomed to fail. I am much more skilled in the magical arts than every little pawn that you send in here, if I may humbly say so.”_

_The witch shook her head: “_ Humbly _say so. You, Dumbledore, are quite an arrogant man.”_

_“You already stated before that you are able to see my true face now.”_

_“Yes, and I must say that it is rather unsettling and lets me question the competence of the British Ministry.”_

_They eye each other once more.  
“Watch out for the wand he wields, Madam President.”, he said cautionary and with a coldness, that would make Gellert proud. _

_With that he folded his hands in his lap and he crossed his legs, symbolizing the end of their conversation._

_The President’s jaw-muscle twitched and she abruptly stood up. She called the names of his interrogators – Apparently Peters and Smith – and they entered._

_“Do what you must – I need to contact someone. We’ll try something else.”_

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_**20th of June, Nurmengard, Austrian Alps** _

The first thing Albus feels is warmth.   
He is surrounded by a warmth that surrounds him like a cocoon and makes him feel boneless and his muscles too heavy to lift. 

The second thing is that he has _the migraine of the century_. His head feels like it has been most aggressively split open with an axe. 

He in- and exhales a few times, trying to stop his mind from rotating with a few miles per hour and starts focusing on other things. His fingertips touch something soft and he figures that he is lying on a smooth surface. Most likely a bedsheet, though not his own since it doesn’t feel like cotton, but more like a very expensive material. Perhaps silk. Not the kind of luxury a professor would have need for. 

Cautiously, he tries to open his eyes a crack and immediately closes them again when everything starts to spin and a soft groan escapes him.   
After a few seconds of in- and exhaling once more, he tries again and they immediately start to tear.   
The room is blurry and he has to blink a few times before the shapes get remotely clear. Slowly, very slowly and still half-dizzy, he turns his head to the right side. 

A small night table is positioned there, painted dark brown with golden handles, and on the surface, he can discover a long, black piece of wood. 

His wand. 

With a movement too quick (the room is tipping to the side) he reaches out and closes his fingers around it. 

A warm feeling spreads out from his hand through his entire body and he can hear a quiet singing in his ears, like on the first day when he had bought it in DiagonAlley.   
With an amazed gasp he presses his wand close to his heart, overwhelmed with joy, and just savouring the feeling of holding the weathered material in his hand.   
His last memory of his long-time companion is it being broken apart and now, it looks like nothing ever happened to it. 

He furrows his brows and looks back at the table.   
Previously overseen, there lie his Deluminator and the book he had brought with him to his trial at the Ministry.   
_Both things Travers had taken for himself,_ if he remembers correctly, his blood starting to boil at the thought of him, _that imbecile of a man, that arrogant, dull wizard not even understanding its true purpose-_

A light shuffling on the other side catches his attention and he turns his gaze into its direction. 

There, on a small, cushioned bench in front of a huge window, sat a man he thought he’d never see again, posture straight as an arrow, wearing noble clothes and looking at him intensely with mis-matched eyes.   
The room seems to lose all its air as the former professor stares right back, eyes unblinking.   
Gellert Grindelwald parts his lips slightly and asks: “Albus?”

His voice is deeper. 

It is nothing important, only a small observation, but still, it overwhelms Albus’ fuzzy mind.   
Gellert frowns and repeats his name, a little louder this time.

He should probably say something. But it is just - hearing _his voice_ -the mirror had only shown him the picture of Gellert, an illusion that Albus sometimes stole glances from, and then always leaving with a heavier heart. 

_Hearing_ his voice makes it _real._

“Gellert.”, he says, not very brightly he will admit. 

The most wanted wizard in Europe exhales quietly, while Albus lowers his gaze to gather his thoughts. The fog in his mind is starting to clear and only now the situation seems to hit. 

Gellert is here. 

_Gellert is here!_

Not in disguise and not with a henchman pointing their wand at him. Albus glances around Gellert and out of the window. The sun is setting but he believes he can make out the shape of snowy peaks in the far distance. He lets his eyes trail around the room they are in and comes to the conclusion, that it is too spacious and elegant to be simple hide-out, so he must be in Gellert’s headquarters. 

_The centre of all of Grindelwald’s actions._

Something hysteric is bubbling deep in his chest. 

Gellert built his base in the thrice-damned Alps.   
No wonder nobody ever found him. 

“Am I correct in the assumption that I am currently at _Nurmengard?_ ”, he asks, eyes still drawn to the beautiful landscape and his voice is raspy, as if he had swallowed chalk down his throat.

Gellert only nods, not even asking how Albus knows. 

The former professor looks back at his old friend and nods in return for the lack of anything better. 

_Erised is truly a wonder of magic,_ he thinks amazed. The Austrian looks exactly like his reflection in the mirror.   
Albus wants to sit up and prepares himself on relying on his elbows but immediately sinks back into the soft mattress of what he recognizes now as a four-poster bed, letting out a pained noise. 

“How are you feeling?”, Gellert inquires. 

“Like a giant trampled over my head”, he responds while massaging his forehead.

He gathers what he knows: He is currently at Nurmengard. The last memory he recalls if of that absolute abhorrence of a cell in an unknown place. Gellert is with him. He has his wand returned in one piece, along with his other possessions.   
The professor looks at his too-thin wrists. The skin there is pale, almost transparent, but smooth and clean and there are fading bruises or even worse, scars and most importantly: Those horrendous shackles had been taken from him, which means that his magic is no longer bound (though he feels so weak that probably a mildly determined squirrel could knock him out at this point). 

“What happened in the past few days?”

“You were in prison.”

“I am not anymore.”

“Not anymore, no.” Gellert had leaned back against back rest, legs crossed and his posture has a cat-like grace to it, which grants the dark wizard an aura of effortless superiority. 

“How much do you already know?”, Albus asks.

Gellert tilts his head: “Whatever do you mean?”

He scoffs, “I am sure that most newspapers have by now reported about - my supposed alliance with you.”  
His cheeks blush faintly and he sees something shifting in the depths of Gellerts’ eyes and a miniscule smirk, gone again too quick to be sure, has formed on the dark Lord’s lips. 

“My dear, I don’t think that there is one newspaper who hasn’t reported _excessively_ about it: Albus Dumbledore, genius and eccentric teacher of Hogwarts, exposed for what he really is: In league with the terrible Gellert Grindelwald. Whoever will protect Britain now?” 

_In league, not hopelessly in love,_ though he can’t imagine that the prophet left that out. Abeforth will be without a doubt furious. 

“What else?”, he asks, still clinging to the ridiculous hope that perhaps the Ministry hasn’t passed on everything to the scandal-hungry journalists. 

“Your father has been mentioned.” Albus’ head whips up. “The government is doing everything to make your trial seem justified, so they let it slip that Percival Dumbledore has killed three muggle-boys and that a deep-rooted urge has been passed on to you. You’ve enjoyed some popularity among the British wizard community and they didn’t count on that kind of backflash, so they decided to take a different approach.”  
The smile turns into a cold sneer “You were always very good at presenting yourself in a favourable light.”

Albus doesn’t answer, mainly because there isn’t anything to respond to that; it is true after all. He has a talent for making people like him while pulling strings like a puppeteer, as well as finding the balance between kindness and manipulation. 

He rubs his forehead and recalls Gellert’s words.

 _Your father has been mentioned._

Albus had enough time in prison to brood about the Ministry’s next steps. He had almost driven himself mad, thinking about the possibilities, how they would exploit everything he had revealed. Picqurey had already talked about his father, so it was only logical that they would use that information to their advantage, which meant in turn that the entire Magical world knew now. Once again, he felt that hot fury that had never left him since the first of June burning beneath his skin.   
But if they had looked carefully into the crimes of his family, that would lead them to-  
“Has Abeforth given a statement yet?”, he asks, voice rough with anxiousness. 

Gellert understands what he is asking without having to say it out loud: “No, though I don’t think that is because he holds any kind of love for either of us.”   
No, most certainly not. The younger Dumbledore had probably tried to protect Ariana’s memory from becoming a public spectacle.   
Poor Abeforth. Aurors were probably overrunning his little bar and he is sure that he had been questioned by now, though he didn’t believe that his stubborn brother would cooperate. He only hopes that he is smart enough not to drink anything they offer him. 

The anger in him spreads. Never, _never_ , in his entire life did he have to endure such _humiliation._ His fists clench. 

“What else?”

Gellert extends his left arm over the back rest and offers him a smirk: “Hogwarts has given a statement. It was surprisingly diplomatic, though the opinions on the matter differ. There are teachers and students who think you deserve to be locked up for your supposed cooperation with me, and others who insist that you have done a lot of good for Muggleborns. One professor, Merrythought was her name I believe, even stepped up to argue in your favour.” Grindelwalds’ eyes observe him carefully.  
“She was my DADA teacher when I was still a student.”, Albus comments absently while folding his hands. 

That his favourite professor had tried to defend him created something small and warm in his chest. He had always had great respect for the elderly witch, which had turned into genuine affection when she had tried to help him after his mother’s death during his seventh year in Hogwarts. Albus had never told her much about himself, much less about personal things, but she had always suspected something.   
However, he is aware that nobody will have listened to her. 

No, Hogwarts is closed to him. 

“And some of the children even support my cause and therefore, you.”, Gellert continues and Albus is pulled out of thoughts.   
He gives the Austrian an incredulous glance, which soon turns into resignation. He needn’t be surprised. Gellert’s message has reached far, far corners of the world and how could he judge young, influenceable minds when he himself was not immune. Especially since he should know better.

He imagines the students of Hogwarts sitting at their tables in the Great Hall, bent over the Daily Prophet Article while eating breakfast and immediately writing their parents to ask If this was true: If their transfiguration professor had indeed been a double-agent the whole time. Or, his Gryffindors in the common room and eagerly discussing If Dumbledore had ever given any secret signs or behaved in a way that proves his alliance with Grindelwald. An uncomfortable feeling spreads in his gut at the thought.   
Perhaps the children had gotten questioned by Aurors. The teachers most definitely had. Probably everyone he knows and had more or less regular contact with, which meant Elphias, Nicolas and Perenelle, Newt-

Newt

Albus’ fingers clench the blanket so tightly that they pale. Oh, what must Newt think of him? And Mr. Kowalski and Auror Goldstein? He hadn’t looked up to see their reaction at the trial, too ashamed and distracted, and now he regrets it.   
They must be angry, no doubt. And disappointed. Newt has fought so hard against something, Albus has, partly, created.   
He lets go of the silken material and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Has Newt or one of his friends made some kind of comment?”, he forces himself to ask. 

Anger mars Gellerts’ aristocratic features, though he stays composed: “You mean that animal-loving oaf who stole our blood pact?”  
Albus recoils at the venom in his voice and he makes a pained grimace as the pressure behind his forehead seems to double.  
“If you would kindly stop insulting the people I am fond of, Gellert, that would be very kind and for Merlin’s sake _stop thinking so loud._ ”, he exclaims while rubbing his temples.   
Surprisingly, Gellert’s expression smoothens again and the arrogant, little smile returns while the pain in his head lessens. 

“No, Scamander has not said a thing to anyone.”, Grindelwald offers and Albus exhales deeply. It doesn’t mean anything, much less that Newt is _not_ furious at him, but at least he didn’t go to the Ministry. 

They sit in silence for a while, the English man looking at the beautiful landscape instead of his former lover. The sun has almost vanished now and the first stars make their appearance.

“I must admit,” Gellert starts, his voice sounding like velvet,“ that I was very flattered when you proclaimed your eternal love for me in front of the entire International Magical Congress.”, Albus’ heart stops, only to immediately feel like it fell down a few floors and he stares up at Gellert. The dark wizard’s eyes are glittering and his lips form a knowing smile that could be mistaken for arrogant. 

He wants to say hundred things at once but all he brings out is: “You were there!”

“I was.”, the blond answers and Albus gets the feeling that he had wanted to reveal that since the beginning of their conversation. 

“Do not mock me, Grindelwald”, Albus commands quietly, _“Don’t you dare-”_

“I am not, Albus.” Gellert’s smile flees in an instant and his features become serious; “I would not. Never. Not when it comes to this.”  
Dumbledore can hardly believe that. Gellert carefully stands up and walks over to his side.

 _Gellert had attended the trial. Gellert had sat in the same room as he had. And Gellert had done_ nothing. 

“I watched them force you to share my secrets. I saw you trying so bravely to evade their questions. I saw you fighting so cleverly against them and keeping the most precious gems of my past to yourself. I cannot even begin to describe to you how _tremendously_ amusing it was to hear them talk about me like I was an elusive shadow. How much I enjoyed watching them admit that they sincerely don’t know how to catch me, while I sat in their midst.”

“The man from the German section…”, the former professor realizes slowly. “The man who _laughed._ ”

The arrogant twinkle was joined by a mischievous smile and in that moment, Gellert has never resembled his younger self more.

“You sat through the whole process.” Oh Morgana, Gellert had heard _everything._

_“I don’t think Grindelwald regarded us as friends. Gellert used me. He didn’t have any kind of more complex feelings for me. I was easy enough to manipulate.”_

Oh Merlin!

_“Professor Dumbledore, have you been, and still are, in love with the murderer Gellert Grindelwald?”_

_Oh Merlin!_

He buries his head in his hands. 

That…was embarrassing on a whole new level. The ground may open now. 

“And I wanted to stop them, believe me, but even I cannot defeat two hundred delegates at the same time _and_ get to you. So, I waited and placed my agents close, but they lost the carriage and after that began the chase.”, Gellert continues softly. 

Albus’ face emerges behind his palms: “It was you who freed me.”, he states suprised

Gellert nods, before he practically spits: “Durmstrang. They brought you to _Durmstrang_ – or at least close.”

 _Oh! Well played, Picquery_ , Albus thinks distracted. 

He doesn’t dare to look at Gellert. 

“Albus, what happened in there?” 

He didn’t want to think about it honestly. “Why, what did you diagnose?”

“I found you in a cell. The prison was guarded by Dementors. You – for Faust’s sake, for a moment I thought you were _kissed.”_  
Dumbledore looks at the self-proclaimed dark lord. It is almost inaudible, but there is a very fine dissonance creeping into Gellert’s voice. 

“Queenie Goldstein, my Legilimens, took a look at you and then left immediately, afraid to hurt you. She said that your Occlumentic shields are completely shattered.”

Albus presses his lips together: “They hired another Legilimens. I don’t know who he is now where he comes from but-“  
He rubs his temples, the headache still pounding like a drum against his forehead. “He - tried to break through my barriers. When he couldn’t get in naturally, they used confusion spells and then he attacked.”

Grindelwald frowns: “Confusion spells are usually harmless.” 

Albus gives him a sinister look: “Every spell can be used to cause damage, Gellert.”

The blond raises a hand as a symbol of peace. 

“I am not entirely sure what happened after. I tried to think of something neutral, Hogwarts, of the classes I teach – well, used to teach.”

He doesn’t want to continue. Pictures of his students, distorted and falsified, flicker behind his eyelids. The confusion spell had taken his memory and along with that vicious offense against his mind, had altered it, so he had seen them hurt and alone. He doesn’t know if it was done intentionally or not, but would like to destroy something at the sheer memory of it. He repeats his thoughts to Gellert (except the last one - Gellert didn’t need to know that). 

“That explains why the first thing you did was asking for your students.”, he mutters. 

Once more, they both fall silent again, Albus finally sitting upright and Gellert still standing next to him, his features carrying an unreadably expression. 

After a while, he picks up his wand again and twirls it: “Quite interesting. It seems like it has never been parted and yet I can clearly remember the sound of splintered wood.” He looks at the strangely-shaped wand that peeks out of Gellert’s pocket. “You have found the Elder Wand.” 

“Indeed, I have.”, Gellert says as he takes out the Wand of Destiny and lets it glide through his long, elegant fingers. 

There is something flaring up in Albus’ chest and he needs to restrain himself from reaching out. Apparently, his face must have given something away because the dark wizard smiles amused and brings the cursed object closer to him: “You can hold it - I don’t mind.”

Albus folds his hands quickly as he stares at it. An old longing, almost forgotten and buried along with a little girl in Godric’s Hollow, is starting to make its way to the surface again.   
He has suspected it, of course, but to actually have it confirmed and now so boldly presented… the first hallow offered to him, like death had once offered it to the first brother, the one gift Gellert had always desired the most, is exhilarating.   
Breathing deeply and trying to control his voice, he says: “I always preferred the stone.”

A tense moment follows in which Gellert simply stares at him and for a second, Albus is worried that this somewhat civil conversation is coming to its brutal end. But then, Gellert throws his fair head back and _laughs._

“Oh, Albus, _I’ve missed you._ ” The redhead blinks confused at the unexpected reaction. Gellert has calmed down and an honest, amused smile stretches out on his face. It isn’t as beautiful as it used to be, but then again, Albus can’t imagine that Gellert still smiles a lot nowadays. The thought makes his heart throb painfully.

“Only you, my old friend, could have been presented with the most powerful wand in the world and yet ask so demanding for something else.”, Gellert says, mirth dancing in his eyes.  
Albus feels the edge of his lips twitch traitorously as his eyes are drawn once more to the legendary hallow. His fingers don’t feel like his own anymore, fidgeting with the desperate desire to hold that piece of power in their grip, for the first and most likely last time since Gellert would certainly never part from it again. Giving in to the temptation, his guilt quickly overruled by an ancient yearning and scientific curiosity, he carefully takes the Elder Wand and looks at it with open admiration. 

“Do you know what its core is?”

“Thestral hair.”, Gellert responds, observing his old companion attentively.   
Albus’ fingers drive over the little carves and symbols in the middle: “What do you know about it?”, he asks, utterly fascinated. 

“It is 15 inches long. I haven’t found out what the runes mean, yet.”

The former professor squints his eyes and tries to analyse them, but doesn’t recognize them. Well, his mind is still too tired to do much. 

“Did you kill its last possessor?”, he wants to know, remembering the horrible price a little bit too late for his contempt. To his surprise, Gellert shakes his head. “I stole it. The foolish old man didn’t even use it. He just kept it like it was some sort of collectable.”

Albus nods relieved and inspects once more the wand in front of him. For a moment, a very brief moment, he thinks of raising it to point at Gellert. But it is fleeting and so very weak that he ought to feel ashamed - which he doesn’t. He should, but he is too exhausted and confused to keep the moral high ground right now. And quite frankly, too petty as well. He looks up at Gellert, his first and last love. Over the years spent in Hogwarts, he has imagined so many different scenarios about how a potential meeting could happen. A duel had been part of them. A final duel, to stop him, before he can kill Albus, but now-

He gives it back and Gellert stores it safely away in his pocket once more.

“So.”

“So.”, Gellert repeats. 

“Am I to be a prisoner of war?”

Gellert chuckles amused: “On the contrary. I’d like to express my wish for you to join me in our noble cause.”

Albus can’t help but snort. “You’ve been planning to kill me.” 

Gellert doesn’t twitch an eyebrow. 

“And you left me exposed to torture for half a year in MACUSAs’ dungeons. Not to speak about the punishment that would have awaited me in Europe, which would have been most likely the death penalty, that is still used under special circumstances.”

Albus feels his temper rising: “First of all, you have committed several crimes against the Muggle society as well as wizards, _murder_ only one of them and probably not even the most severe. Secondly, I have written MACUSA multiple times, criticizing their treatment.”

Gellert lifts his arms in the air and mocks: “Oh, ring the bells for have you heard, _Albus Dumbledore knows how to use a feather _. Mephisto, you are such an infuriating hypocrite. If they had decided to execute me on the spot, what would you have done, Albus? Watched it happen?”__

__Albus presses his jaw together so tightly that it is a wonder that his teeth stay intact._ _

__Gellert gives him a cruel smile: “It would have been quite convenient for you, wouldn’t it? A murderer would have disappeared without you having to leave your comfortable castle and get your hands dirty.”_ _

__He is sure that his teeth are cracking by now._ _

__“Of course. Your own sins buried along with me. So no-one would ever know what happened with Ari-“_ _

___“You would have deserved it!”_ , Albus almost shouts before he can hold himself back, a small face surrounded by a halo of red-golden hair on the floor flashing behind his eyelids. Immediately he bites down on his tongue and looks at Gellert with wide eyes. He doesn’t know if he is simply imagining it but he thinks that Gellert’s pale complexion has become a little bit paler. _ _

__They stare at each other for what could have been centuries._ _

__Gellert stands still as a statue before he sighs and sits down at his side, one leg popped up on the bed._ _

__“We’re even then, I guess. I will not deny that I intended to use Credence Barebone to- dispose of the problem that you represented.”_ _

__Albus knows this of course, but it still hurts his heart more than he’d ever admit to himself._ _

___Represented. Not represent._ _ _

__He thinks very long about whether he should speak the next words. Gellert already knows too much about him, about his feelings, his heart and mind, thanks to the _Veritaserum_ but he has nothing to lose anymore. He can’t go back to Hogwarts, nor any other country where he has some kind of influence._ _

__“I wouldn’t have let them execute you.”, he says softly and very quiet. Gellert’s mismatched eyes turn towards him, so familiar and mysterious.  
“Imprison you? Yes. Torture you? I would have tried to fight it. Perhaps not to your liking, yet still. But kill you?”, Albus looks at him sadly, “I would have found a way to get you out. I would have felt ashamed to no end but no-one deserves to die like this. And that includes the Muggles.” He sighs and gives Gellert the shadow of a smile: “Besides, I had a feeling that you would manage to escape.”_ _

__With that he folds his hands in his lap and twiddles his thumps as he looks once more out of the window at the night sky, where the moon illuminates the mountains in a magical glow, relieved and anxious at the same time. Gellert doesn’t say anything for a long time but at one point, he feels one of his hands being enclosed in two others._ _

__He looks down at their entwined fingers and then at the wizard holding them._ _

___“I don’t think Grindelwald regarded us as friends. He is, and has always been, drawn to power first and foremost and I happen to have enough of that. Gellert used me. He didn’t have any kind of more complex feelings for me. I was easy enough to manipulate.”_ , Grindelwald recites and Albus can feel his cheeks turning so red, that it must have the same colour as his hair by now,” You, my dear, can be very stupid for a genius.”, Gellert comments tenderly._ _

__He releases his hand and stands up, his features once more impassive: “I offer you asylum in Nurmengard for as long as you want but I can’t imagine that you wouldn’t wish for any kind of revenge against those who tormented you. For long enough, you have stood at the side-lines. You still have a place at my side. You always had.”, he hesitates before he continues, “And for what it’s worth: I don’t think that Credence would have managed to kill you.”_ _

__Albus looks at him surprised, understanding the secret meaning behind his last sentence. He waits a long moment before replying: “I will think about it.”_ _

__His old friend nods: “That is all I ask for.” He opens the door to leave: “Gellert, how did you get my wand?”, Albus asks quickly, before he is gone._ _

__Gellert turns around for the final time and smirks: “I paid Travers a little visit shortly before your rescue.” With that he leaves.  
Albus stares at the closed door for a long time, before murmurs: “Thank you.” He doesn’t know if he means the return of his wand, that Gellert came for him or what exactly but it doesn’t matter right now. _ _

__

__\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_ _

__

___**24th of June, Nurmengard, Austrian Alps** _ _ _

__He is visited by three people before he sees Gellert again._ _

__Queenie Goldstein is the first one and, without a doubt, one of the loveliest people he ever had the honour to meet.  
In a rosé-coloured dress, she practically floats into his room, golden curls whipping up and down and with a smile that speaks of a deep, genuine kindness. He can see why Jacob is so enamoured with her. They are a good match and he feels a sting of regret that they are separated for now (though he is convinced that they will meet again)._ _

__“Oh, Professor, I am so glad to see that you’re better again.”, she says, her American accent prominent._ _

__“Miss Goldstein, I presume.”, he says, a bit overwhelmed by the sudden cheerfulness in his usually quiet room._ _

__“Yes, indeed, Professor Dumbledore, and I already know who you are.”_ _

__She waves her wand and plate with heavenly smelling French toast flies in and settles elegantly in his lap._ _

__Albus had managed to eat more and especially _solid_ food in the last few days and luckily, he had started to gain weight again, but it was nothing compared to the delicious looking meal that is now in front of him. _ _

__“Thank you, this smells delicious. And not a professor anymore, I am afraid.”, the witch sits down on the bench that Gellert had occupied a few days ago and he picks up his fork, when he can suddenly feel a warm sensation in his head, almost as if a cloud had wrapped itself around his mind._ _

___A foreign mind_ _ _

__He looks at her surprised and she smiles at him, a bit apologetic: “I am really sorry Mr. Dumbledore, I can’t really control it and I haven’t learned proper Occlumency yet.”_ _

__Albus shakes his head, partly to find out if her mental presence would hurt, but when it doesn’t he looks at her intrigued. “It is alright. You have, could we say, a sympathetic mind? How fascinating, I have never met a natural Legilimens before?”_ _

__The witch beams at the compliment and the former teacher feels strongly reminded of his students. It is a pleasant feeling._ _

__“I left your room immediately after I saw the state of your mind when you arrived – I think I would have hurt you because your Occlumentic barriers were really broken and needed time to heal, but now they’re better I think, so I figured I could come and visit you.”, she babbles and looks at him with doe-shaped eyes._ _

__“That is very kind of you.”, he says warmly and returns her smile._ _

__They are silent for a while after that, Albus eating his French Toast (which tasted heavenly) and contemplating. He had felt Queenie’s mind immediately, so others would probably too. It was true, what she had said. He had been working on rebuilding his mental shields, previously oversensitive to any kind of foreign thought (fortunately, he was quite isolated in his room) and he realizes that Gellert must have used Occlumency with an iron will the whole time he had been here. Except for one little slip where he had gotten angry at Newt._ _

__“Oh, yes, that is true. Mr. Grindelwald’s Occlumency skills are very impressive.”  
Confused for a moment, Albus looks at the witch before he realizes that she must have listened to his inner monologue. On one hand, it is good that he hadn’t felt her presence which means that his shields are becoming stronger again, but on the other, it is a bit concerning that he hasn’t noticed someone foreign analysing his thoughts. _ _

__“Indeed. Is he the one who teaches you?”, he answers to distract her._ _

__She nods excited: “Yes, he and Madame Rosier. In return, I teach him Legilimency.”  
That surprises Albus. Gellert has some natural talent for it, though it had never seemed especially strong and he had been unaware that one could train it. _ _

__“Well, we try what we can.”, Queenie says cheerfully._ _

__Albus nods and cuts another piece of his toast, while the American witch chews nervously on her lip. He lets her take her time and after a few moments, he can suddenly hear a voice ringing in his head: _“How are Jacob and Teenie?”__ _

__He doesn’t answer her but shows her mental pictures instead: Jacob and Auror Goldstein at Hogwarts, after the rally and missing her terribly._ _

__Tears well up in her eyes. _“I miss ‘em too.”_ , she sniffles, “Thank you.”, she says out loud and rises from her chair. With a flick of her wand, the empty plate is gone. _ _

__“I am really glad you are here, Mr. Dumbledore. And he is, too.”, the smile she gives him is a bit blurry but honest.  
With that she leaves the room. _ _

___And he is, too._ _ _

__A warn feeling hollows in his chest._ _

___Oh, damn you Gellert_ _ _

__He starts making a list in his head._ _

__

__\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_ _

__

___**27th of June, Nurmengard, Austrian Alps** _ _ _

__The second person is a woman as well, though he doesn’t recognize her, much to her displeasure._ _

__“I am Vinda Rosier.”, she explains curt, sharp and with a French accent, as if her name is the only explanation one might need.  
And of course, Albus knows the name. Everyone who grew up in the Magical World probably did: Descendant of one of the 28 sacred families, of most noble and pure blood and probably one of the richest witches in Europe. Also, Gellert’s first lieutenant, most loyal follower according to his sources and, perhaps, even considered a friend._ _

__He prepares himself for an unpleasant time: “How can I help you?”_ _

__She looks down at him, her gaze dismissive: “I require information.”_ _

__“I will see if I can answer your question.”, he decides to reply after a moment. That woman was an important person and it wouldn’t do any good to antagonize her._ _

__She straightens and there is something flaring in her eyes that makes him honestly curious: “Where is my Master’s pendant?”_ _

__The curiosity vanishes instantly and he lets out an involuntary, frustrated noise. Merlin, how many times had he been asked this exact question during the last few weeks?_ _

__He rubs his forehead to get some time to think: “Why?”_ _

__“Because I was charged with the return of it and I wasn’t able to do so.”_ _

__Albus shakes his head: “You won’t get it, no matter what you do.”_ _

__“You underestimate my abilities.”, she simply replies and he wants to groan at her over-confidence. No wonder Gellert likes her._ _

__“It’s in Hogwarts.”_ _

__“I know it is in Hogwarts, Dumbledore, I want to know where exactly.”_ _

__“What do you know about it?”_ _

__She purses her painted lips, obviously starting to lose her patience as well: “It is a blood pact, that you and Grindelwald have created together in the year of 1899. It is quite important to him for I’ve seen him wearing it since our first meeting.”_ _

__“You won’t get into Hogwarts and you don’t need to. It is safe there. The Aurors can look until they go mad, they won’t find it. And when did you meet, exactly?”_ _

__Not very subtle, but he wanted to know._ _

__“1904”_ _

__1904_ _

__And Gellert had always carried it with him?_ _

__Deciding to delay the entanglement of the confusing mix of feelings that arose through that statement to later, he asks her: “And why do you think you failed? It was taken and immediately brought to me. You couldn’t have done anything.”_ _

__Her eyes turn to slits and she stares at him with suspicion, before she lets out a short “hm” and turns around to leave the room._ _

__Albus looks after her with open confusion on his face._ _

__He isn’t entirely sure if he made an enemy or a new ally today._ _

__

__\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_ _

__

___**1st of July, Nurmengard, Austrian Alps** _ _ _

__Being on bedrest is incredibly boring. Even he can read only a limited amount of books. He rereads “L’historie des magiciens à Lyon” for the second time (his French is rusty but tolerable) when the door opens slowly and a head with dark hair peeks through the door._ _

__Surprised, Albus puts his book away and rests his hands on the sheets._ _

__His third visitor is Credence Barebone._ _

__The boy prances nervously a little bit closer, shy and curious at the same time.  
He comes to halt in front of the professor and examines him intensely. Albus lets him and eyes the boy in return. _ _

__He looks quite healthy, certainly better than in New York (or at least the pictures he had seen of it) and his posture is almost straight._ _

__His own blue eyes finally find the dark ones of Credence and he sees something shifting in them, that surprises him: disappointment._ _

__“I assume that you were expecting something else?”, he says with a kind voice._ _

__The boy looks a bit spooked: “How do you know?”_ _

__Albus chuckles: “I had a lot of time to learn reading young adolescents’ expressions, Mr. Barebone.”_ _

__The Obscurial flinches, barely visible and his fingers fidget._ _

__The former professor conjures a chair with his wand (and every time it is a joy to use it again) and points at it: “Please, you look like you need to sit down.”_ _

__The poor lad practically collapses on it and Albus feels compassion bubbling in his stomach.  
Determined to let the boy set his own terms and speak first, he stays silent.   
It is quiet for a long time until Credence suddenly blurts out: “He wanted to use me to – to get rid of you.”_ _

___He_ being Grindelwald._ _

__Albus sighs: “I am aware.”_ _

__The Obsucrial looks at him distrustfully: “You are not afraid of me.”_ _

__“I don’t think that you really want to kill me, am I correct?”_ _

__Credence doesn’t respond immediately and avoids eye contact.  
“It depends.”, he finally replies. _ _

__“On what?”_ _

__“If what he said is true.”_ _

__“What do you think?”, the former professor decides to ask after a few moments of silence._ _

__The American boy contemplates before he says carefully: “I think that Mr. Grindelwald can take the truth and twist it so many times that it serves his own benefit in the end.”_ _

__Dumbledore nods humming: “An accurate description, I would say.”_ _

__Again, a long silence_ _

__“I am not who he says I am. Am I not?”, Credence finally asks resigned._ _

__Albus sighs and curses Gellert in his mind: “I don’t know but, no, probably not.”_ _

__The boy clenches his fists, something wild and dark entering his gaze. He takes out his wand ( _a wand_ ) and holds to it like one would to a lifeline.   
Afraid of what could very likely happen, Albus quickly grabs the Obscurial’s hand and he almost jumps. _ _

__“I don’t know what Gellert told you but you can always leave.”_ _

__“I can’t.”, the boy croaks out, his limbs shaking. Albus swallows. All this looks way too familiar.  
“He wouldn’t let me.”_ _

__The former teacher shakes his head and curses Gellert some more: “He will, that I swear. If not, I will personally see to it that he does. And he won’t like my methods.”_ _

__Credence doesn’t laugh but instead examines him again: “They say you are a powerful wizard. That you are an equal to Grindelwald, and with that a threat.”_ _

__Albus nods with a smile, having heard that compliment too often already to feel really flattered but wanting to reassure the young Obscurial. His eyes fall on the dark wand in the pale, still slightly trembling hands._ _

__“If you don’t believe me that you can leave, look at your wand.”_ _

__Credence gazes down at the beautifully shaped wood._ _

__“What of it?”_ _

__Albus leans forward, a secretive smile on his lips: “It belonged to Grindelwald, once.”_ _

__

__\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_ _

__

___**9th of July, Gardens of Nurmengard, Austrian Alps** _ _ _

__When Albus sees Gellert again, it is in Nurmengards’ beautiful gardens. Weeks have passed and he is finally strong enough to walk and to not collapse immediately when he faces a person who is not able to perform Occlumency. So, he enjoys the sunshine and the exotic flowers that are planted on both sides of a small path until it is blocked by Gellert who is suddenly standing right in front of him._ _

__They look at each other before Albus resumes his route, Gellert at his side: “Where have you been?”_ _

__The Austrian’s face doesn’t give anything away: “Preparing a safe house in the next city I want to visit.”  
His old companion is tempted to ask him where it is but he knows that Gellert won’t tell him, so they walk in silence for a while._ _

__“Should I leave you alone?”, the dark wizard asks eventually._ _

__Albus hesitates, but overcomes it quickly: “No I wanted to speak to you anyways.”_ _

__They find a small garden table from which you can see over the castle wall directly into the valley far beneath them at the bottom of the mountain. They are above the clouds, so fog is obscuring their sight every now and then._ _

__Gellert lets two cups of tea appear and while it is not as good as freshly brewed, Albus accepts happily. “So, what is your decision?”, he asks straight forward after they have both taken a sip._ _

__Dumbledore takes some time with his answer, looking at the area instead. He had underestimated how much he would enjoy seeing something else than the Scottish Highlands or the cities of England._ _

__“I have decided to join you once more.”, he finally replies._ _

__Gellert inhales deeply but otherwise doesn’t show any reaction: “Why?”_ _

__Albus looks at him: “I have nowhere to go. Hogwarts; the United Kingdom, the Continent, Canada, The United States…everywhere I am a fugitive. Of course, I could go to Asia or Africa, I could finally travel and actually _see_ something but it would be without purpose. I have no friends there, and no home.”  
He makes a quick pause to take another sip and prepare himself for his next words: “And I want justice. I want retribution for what happened at the Ministry. I consider myself a tolerant man but that went too far. That surpassed my limits.” It should be alarming how easily those words were said._ _

__He doesn’t add _and I missed you_ or _I still love you_ – He can’t say those words yet but Gellert knows it anyways. He was at the trial after all. _ _

__The Austrian is quiet for a long time. Albus observes him carefully and sees his expressions shifting until he finally states: “I am glad.” It sounds a little bit too triumphant, so Albus quickly continues: “But I have conditions and they are not negotiable.”_ _

__Gellert looks at him, ready to hear him out but not agreeing yet: “Let me guess: They involve Credence Barebone? My Acolytes told me that he has disappeared. I assume you had something to do with that?”_ _

__The former teacher looks at him determined: “Yes.”_ _

__Gellerts’ nostrils widen in anger: “He took my old wand.”_ _

__Albus doesn’t twitch an eyebrow: “He deserved it after what you did to him. That and so much more. But yes, he is my first condition. You will let him leave and neither you, nor your followers will hunt him down._ _

__“He will want revenge against me.”_ _

__“Then that is your own fault. You will let him escape and you will write him a letter in which you tell him everything you know about his real family, if you actually, honestly know something.”_ _

__Gellerts’ lips form a very thin line but he tilts his head to symbolise the other to continue._ _

__“Queenie as well is allowed to leave the moments she wants to.” Which might be sooner than they both think, he presumes._ _

__“Not surprising.”, Gellert says, “Further conditions?”_ _

__Albus feels more settled: “You will release the prisoners; Graves and whoever you are holding. Obliviate them if you must but send them home. All of them._ _

__You will not go after Newt, Tina Goldstein, Jacob Kowalski, Yusuf Kama, Nagini, my friend Nicolas and his wife, or” – he hesitates briefly – “or Theseus Scamander, am I clear? Neither will your Acolytes.” Gellert looks quite unhappy at that, most likely because of the Scamander brothers._ _

__“Then: You will respect my opinions and you will sincerely think about them.” The dark Lord frowns: “When have I not done that?”_ _

__Albus ignores his question and already continues: “The Muggles.”, he can practically see Gellert’s wish to argue, “We will discuss your policy on that. No excessive violence anymore. I can agree that it will be unavoidable if we go against the Ministries, but there needs to be another way.  
And finally-“, he says before Gellert can interrupt, “Finally, and most importantly, I decide when murder is necessary. That is my last condition.”_ _

__Gellert pushes his finger-tips against each other in a contemplating gesture while letting his gaze float over the beautiful nature surrounding them. Albus gives him some time to think about his demands and busies himself with finishing his tea._ _

__In the end, Gellert has seems to have come to a conclusion: “Those are a lot of conditions and most of them not very agreeable with my previous course. What do I get in return?”_ _

__Albus is already prepared for that question: “My loyalty to you and _only_ you. My renewed devotion to the Greater Good, my magical skills, my mind and ideas, and my council should you want it.”_ _

__Gellert let his hands fall on the armrests of his chair and his fingers slowly tap the wood._ _

__“Before I agree or disagree, I want an honest answer to following question: Where is the pendant?”_ _

__Albus groans and does something he hasn’t done in a very long time: He palms his face rather childishly: “Merlin, I ought to get a sickle whenever someone asks me, really! I would be richer than you!”_ _

__He looks at this old friend: “It is in Hogwarts, more precisely in the _Room of Requirement_. A room that appears when you wish for or are in need of something. I required a safe hiding place, so the room provided one and I wished that no other person than me could enter it. Even if somebody knew, it would be useless.”_ _

__Gellert looks impressed: “That sounds useful.”_ _

__“It is! I found it when I was looking for the bathroom.”, Albus nods.  
The Austrian doesn’t comment on that, but rises from his chair and extends a hand to help him up.   
He takes a very close step towards his old companion when they both stand, too close to be considered proper, and Albus’ breath hitches slightly. Gellert offers him a tiny smirk and says: “We can get our pact on the way. Do you need your conditions written down with my signature beneath it?”_ _

__The former professor shakes his head, hands twitching at his sides. For a moment, he feels like an eighteen-year old again: “No, your word will be enough.”_ _

__Gellert takes his face in his hands: “I swear on our Blood Troth.”_ _

__Albus nods: “So do I.” He can feel the blond’s warm breath on his lips._ _

__“Then we have a bargain.”, Gellert whispers._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, finally! It took some time to get there, but Grindelwald and Dumbledore are finally reunited. For those of you think everything all is well now: Not quite. For them being together, another price must be paid.   
> The next chapter is the final chapter (except for the bonus chapter which will be Dumbledore's trial from Grindelwald's POV) , in which Newt and some others will make an appearance. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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